Letting Go

By mid-week I was pretty sure that I would not be able to make sense of or find any meaning in having my wallet stolen. Was there a message in it somewhere?  Should I not have gone back to the market? Should I not have had so much cash on me? Maybe I shouldn't have changed purses before I went to Boston? Are my "big a*s bags" safer than smaller purses? Would they not have had as much luck reaching in one of my big a*s bags? Even worse, maybe my expectations of the weekend were too high? Maybe I shouldn't have gone to begin with? And then, oh my god, it was red, which is supposed to bring money!... like the crystals that were in the change pocket! I had gone through it a thousand times in my head and had come up without an answer.  So I stopped wondering.

By the end of the week, when I got together with an old friend (and had lots of laughs), I was also pretty sure that it was in my power to let it go, and that it was in my best interest to do so. In fact, I think Alicia was only the tenth person to say you can't let that change how you feel about Haymarket, or ruin your memories of the weekend.

It was time to take back my power.

And buy a new wallet.

And move on without superstitions about what color it should be and what kind of crystals to tuck in the change compartment.

So meet my new pink wallet. And a less encumbered me.