As I sift through her collection of letters, a pink card catches my eye. Printed on the front: “For Your Baby Shower.” Inside, a crisp five dollar bill and black scrawl: “Can’t wait to meet Baby Elizabeth!” My eyes widen. I was Baby Elizabeth. That bill has rested, forgotten, inside the card for 48 years. Those were the 48 years our lifetimes overlapped. The bill, just like everything else in my mom’s apartment, needs to be cleared out now. I tuck it away inside the small round porcelain box I gave her long ago. That’s five bucks I’ll never spend.
Liz Wilson is a longtime teacher who recently started a new chapter focused on writing, yoga, travel, and doting on her feisty chiweenie.