My Ten Dollars

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I had kept the ten dollar bill in my pocket for a week or so, set apart from the gas and grocery money for one purpose only—I was going to bless someone with it. I was going to lighten a load, brighten a face, and do my part to spread some Christmas cheer.

The problem wasn’t that there weren’t any loads to lighten or faces to brighten. The problem was there were too many. It’s tough out there this year. Very. Ten dollars started to seem way too little to do any good.

But then I met Joey, a true entrepreneur at the hardened age of eight.

I was leaving work when I saw his table and chair at the edge of the front yard of his ramshackle house, not two feet from the street. It was hard to miss his carefully printed and magnificently over-the-top sign: Drawn pictures of Christmas trees and Santa, along with a valiant attempt at a Nativity. In the middle were big letters written in black Sharpie—ROCKS 4 SALE VERY PRETTY JEEZIS LOVES U.

I stopped. Spread over the table were an assortment of pebbles and stones, all of which seemed to have originated from the driveway next door.

“They make perfect gifts,” Joey told me.

“I’m sure they do,” I said. “Kind of a strange thing to be selling though, isn’t it? How about lemonade or something?”

“That’s for summer,” he answered. “’Sides, everybody sells that.”

I nodded. “How’s business?”

“Stinks,” he said. “I think it’s too cold. Folks don’t stop when it’s too cold.”

Folks also don’t stop to buy a handful of gravel from the driveway, I thought. But instead of saying that, I said “Yeah, well the economy’s bad. Nobody’s doing much business.”

“Yup,” said Joey, blowing into his hands. When he did, I noticed a thin stream of snot had frozen between his nose and mouth. “So, you wanna buy somethin’? I’m offering two for one.”

Not being in the need for gravel, I skipped over his question and changed the subject. “I’d think a kid like you would be inside on a day like this. It’s freezing out here.”

“Gotta. It’s the only way I can get some money for Christmas.”

“Got a lot of gifts to buy this year?” I asked.

“Just one for my ma, ‘cause I love her.”

“Well good for you.”

“Yeah,” he said, “she ain’t got any presents for a while. She says she don’t want none, but I know she does. Everybody likes presents, right?”

“Right.”

I studied the rocks while he continued. “Daddy’s are supposed to get presents for mommies, but I ain’t got a daddy anymore. Mine ran off to Oklahoma. Mom says he’s a horse’s hindquarters. Do you know what that means?”

“I could ballpark it,” I said, looking up at him. Joey seemed to want some clarification on exactly what that meant, but I offered none.

Then he said, “I’m the man of the house now. Mom says so. So that means I’m kinda that daddy too, right? So that means I gotta get her a present.”

Oh.

“I’s down at the Rite-Aid the other day,” he said. “They had this smelly perfume kinda like roses. It’s real nice, but boy, it’s expensive.”

“How expensive?” I asked.

“Eight dollars.”

I let out a long whistle. “That is expensive.”

He hung his head. The jaded side of me said it was part of his salesmanship, but the bigger part of me knew it wasn’t. The bigger part of me said this was a lonely child trying to put on his best big-boy face and not quite managing to do it.

The negotiations that followed were spirited and serious, but ultimately successful for both parties. Joey got to fold up his table and chairs and go inside where it was mostly warm with a ten dollar bill to keep him a little warmer. And I got to walk back to my truck with four pocketfuls of rocks.

There’s no place I’d rather be this Christmas morning than in my own home under my own tree with my own family. But if I had to pick a second, I’d like to be at Joey’s house. I’d like to see his mother’s face. I’d like to see his face, too. Because there’s only one thing in this world better than getting a present, and that’s giving one.

Merry Christmas, Joey’s mom.

And Merry Christmas to us all.

Tagged as: gifts, ten dollar blessing