The Tiny Blue Jeans Bag

A twisted way money taught me that it’s the inbetweens that trully matter!

Last year, when I moved to Bucharest, after 30 years of Constanta, it took me three months to emerge from what I used to call that time in my life when I couldn’t access any of my resources.

Though I had made a conscious choice, I felt as if everything was foreign. Though I had seen cars and buses and Romanians before — yes, I’m being sarcastic — the fact that everybody knew exactly where they were heading (whereas I didn’t) was somehow daunting and discouraging. I couldn’t remember bits and pieces of my past. I felt stupid and stuck. I couldn’t articulate ideas or feelings. Everything seemed so far away from me. As if I didn’t fit anywhere. As if I made no sense. Misplaced.

I was lost. Again. Only, this time, I had no home to go back to and put myself together again.

Little did I know, though, that everything I needed was in my “wallet”.

The Tiny Blue Jeans Bag

“Keep it safe!”, grandma said, as she tied the tiny blue jeans bag around my neck. “Don’t let it out of your sight even for a minute!”
“Should I sleep with it?”, I asked as she hid the money in it.
“Yes, hold on to it! It won’t bother you, for it has this soft touch. Don’t smudge it and make sure you don’t show it around too much!”
“Oh, okay.”
That day, I understood that money needed to be kept safe.

And I did.
I held on to the tiny blue jeans bag as tightly as I could.
Carefully spent money on souvenirs instead of junk food.
When I came back from camp, though, I rushed to develop the pictures I had taken with my then non-digital cam. Paid for it with the money left in the tiny blue jeans bag. Would’ve wagged my tail, had I been a dog. I felt so proud, so independent.
Mom, on the other hand, seemed offended.
“Who are you to decide over my money?”, she lashed out without finding it funny at all when I called to brag about my winding.
“Oh, okay.”
That day, I learned that even growing up comes with asking for permission and that spending someone else’s money is a matter of submission to their own, fine-print-ed Terms&Conditions. I learned that ours isn’t mine, at all, because I didn’t earn it. And that money’s never truly granted — one way or another, one has to return it.

And so I was determined to earn my own existence. I rebelled against all odds and announced within the instant:
“When I grow up I’m gonna be a teacher!”
Herself a reformed dreamer, Mom raised her eyebrow in dismissal
“Do you want to starve for a living? Are you being sacrificial?”
“Oh, okay.”
That day, I learned that dreams must be income-effective, too.

When I finished college, I had to pay for my final thesis admission.
As I coined the amount to the cashier’s counter, a new definition of shame infused my disposition. I thought it would take her an hour to count it. It didn’t and, in the end, she smiled. They were all there.
That day, I learned that no matter how wild, change will always serve its purpose.

As the years went by, the tiny blue jeans bag grew into a colored wallet. I keep all sorts of things in it, now. Empty cards, banknotes, receipts, business cards, my ID card, my donor’s book (which I only used once), several movie tickets, a Welcome to ING note from one of my past colleagues, a prayer, oh, and a napkin from a meeting I don’t quite remember…

Friendship. Boundaries. Goals. And Change.

I never got to tie those stories together till today.

I voiced them out at one of Max Stossel’s Digital Writing Group thinking they speak to my relationship with money, when, in fact, they seem to be metaphors for resourcefulness.

• Keeping money safe is about friendship. Safety, in itself, is a sort of Friendship. Either that or we’re inclined to label as friends those people around whom we feel safe to be ourselves. When stuck, remember what and who you love! It’ll bring you back home.
• Not spending other people’s money without asking for permission first, is about boundaries. Boundaries are those shy lines where others end and we begin. When you’re all over the place and nowhere specifically, love boundaries, for they shape your home.
• Making sure Dreams are income-effective is a reality I’m learning to cope with. When you belong to no one, remember what you believe in. That’s home.
• And Change… Change is always there, keeping everything at flow. That small, almost unremarkable arising & passing that completes all the pictures and keeps us deciding, choosing, and going places. When everything seems good as it is, but somehow shifts again, remember that’s just Life’s way to have fun!

It’s the inbetweens that truly matter!!

Friendships. Boundaries. Dreams. And Change. They’re all inbetweens. They might seem as if they’re stand-alone concepts, island-labels, but… are they?

For, Friendships and Boundaries are the utter-most inbetweens of people. Dreams are the inbetweens of where we are and where we’ll be one day. And Change… Change is the perpetual inbetween ourselves — inbetween who we are today and who we’ll still be tomorrow.

Honor your transitions, Deli! For your resources are never lost. And when you still don’t feel them around, always remember to check your wallet — for however empty, it still holds space for change!

Thanks tons for reading,
D.