Category: Short Story

Two Pennies

The following is a true story about an extraordinary happening this past weekend. I hope you enjoy it.

Two Pennies by Barbara Heagy

This past weekend I was out and about, first stop being a tailgate yard sale at a local collegiate fund-raising event. It was lunchtime so I decided to take advantage of a food truck on site that sold gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches. When it came time to pay I decided to pay in cash, not something I do too often as I usually use my credit card, a carry-over from COVID days when we were all encouraged to use our cards rather than cash for health reasons.

“That’ll be $20.50,” the man told me. I handed him a $20 bill and then dug into my change purse for two quarters and handed them to him.

“Well, I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” he said seeming rather amazed as he looked down at his palm. “A penny!”

I was surprised as I was sure I had given him just two 25 cent pieces and we haven’t seen pennies in Canada since 2013 when they were taken out of circulation. I had just returned from the States, so I assumed that an American penny had somehow gotten mixed up in my change purse which, in itself, was a bit strange as I had a separate wallet for my American money.

“Would you like it back?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

As he handed it back to me, my mouth dropped open in surprise. In my hand was a very bright and shiny copper Canadian penny dated 2010. “Oh, my God, that’s the year Tom died.”

Still shaking my head in disbelief, I opened up my wallet to put the special penny away and again, much to my shock, there was another bright shiny penny. I took it out and checked the date on it. 2006! “That’s the year we were married,” I said aloud.

Where did these pennies come from? Is this a sign from above? A direct message from Tom? As I thought about him, I realized that not only was Father’s Day the next day and he was always called Poppa Tom by my girls, but it was also Tom’s birthday the same day, June 16.

Now, there are those who disbelieve and say, “You must have put those pennies there yourself as your own special reminder” but I know that I didn’t. Where would I have gotten what looked like newly minted pennies, especially since the last Canadian penny was minted over ten years ago? I thought too, Did someone in the family plant this wanting to surprise me? But, as my daughter Lara said, “I remember the year Tom died but I certainly didn’t remember the year you were married.” And I know with a certainty that my coin purse had been emptied completely by me just a few months before as I donated all my change to a busker. Besides, two pennies, one 18 years old, and the other 14 years would be tarnished with age, not shining and looking freshly minted.

Life is full of miracles. We just have to be open to them and recognize them when they happen. I think Tom was dropping in for a visit. Happy heavenly birthday, Tom!

Memories of Christmases Past – A Story of Frogs

This morning I had a Facebook conversation with a writer friend, Carolyn Wilker. She had posted a picture and comment about her Christmas tree and its decorations. We ended up listing the variety of ornaments we had on our Christmas trees and shared a little bit about the stories behind them, as she said, “Stories of love on our Christmas trees.” I told her that there was a story for every decoration on my Christmas tree. Here’s one of them.

Between 2001 and 2010, Tom, an old high school friend who later became my husband, was a part of my life.When I first started dating my Tom, I noticed he had a small collection of frogs in his home. I began looking for other frogs to add to his collection and bought him a colourful, whimsical frog as a decoration for our first Christmas tree. So began a new tradition.

Each Christmas, a new shiny frog was added to the tree to celebrate another happy year together for us. Each one was unique and different and acted as a symbol of our love and time together.

After six years of love, we were married. Just before our fourth wedding anniversary, Tom was diagnosed with small-cell lung cancer. Seven months later, just before Christmas, the cancer took Tom’s life.

We had ten devoted years together. Ten frogs on the Christmas tree are a reminder every year of that fulfilling love that I shared with that wonderful man.

Margaret in the Mirror – A Short Story

“Look in the mirror and what do you see?

All the faces of who I used to be.”

Barbara Heagy

Margaret looked into the bathroom mirror as she did every morning. She ran her fingers through her hair, eased out the tangles. Picking at the corner of her eye, she rubbed away the sleepiness of the night. As she leaned in to the mirror, she flexed her lips to check for stray pieces of food caught in her teeth. Stepping back, she glanced down for a moment and then back up to greet the face in the mirror. She struck her pose, her best look. Turning her face slowly to the right, then the left, she examined the small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. “That’s okay, they’re my smile lines,” she told herself confidently. The same smile lines curved down from either side of her nose to the edges of her lips. As if to prove it to herself, she smiled once at the reflection. And that’s when she noticed it.

A little spark, a twinkle in her eyes, a flash of mischief, looked back at her. Her silly, get-into-trouble three-year old face was still there, looking for the next amusement that would send her into high-pitched giggles and squeals of delight. She stuck her tongue out at it. No wonder she enjoyed her little grandson so much. He gave her licence to let the little girl out once in a while, to romp and play and be enchanted by the simple pleasures of life once again.

She took one step back away from the mirror and looked past that little girl to another reflection. This time a young girl, an almost woman, stood shyly in front of her. Margaret could see the bloom on her cheek, the tightly closed lips afraid to say the wrong thing, the averted eyes edged with long, curling lashes, that cautiously looked up at her, then quickly looked away again as they made eye contact. Margaret knew she still lived inside of her. Every time Margaret was faced with a new social situation, a new challenge at work, the insecure young girl appeared, telling her she just wasn’t ready, didn’t know enough, wasn’t capable of grand achievement.

Margaret stood a little taller, pulled herself erect into the whole woman she knew she could be. She looked again at the reflection. This time, she saw a grown woman. A woman about to be married. A woman who loved and knew she was loved. The face was rounder, the lips fuller, the eyes shone in confidence. It was a sensuous face, a glowing face, a face that was about to embark on a new journey with a man who loved her. Margaret could see the future in that face, full of promise, children, and new adventures. Margaret smiled at the reflection. It, too, was still a part of her.

But then she eased herself back into her own form. She stood a little less at attention, relaxed into the older body that was hers that morning. She looked back intently at the mirror.  The face she saw this time was even fuller, a little saggy, a few more wrinkles than she had first admitted to. But the eyes were calm, all-knowing, all-accepting. She was proud of that face – proud of every gray hair on her head, proud of every crease on her cheek and forehead. She was now a mature woman, a woman that was an accumulation of all her life experiences. A woman that had lived a rich, meaningful life; one of joy and pain, sorrow and celebration, and a full acceptance of it all. None of it was lost. It was still all there, reflected back at her from that beautiful face in the mirror.