I may look a little rough around the edges but every scratch and imperfection marks the signature of both life and experience. I wear tattoos that read "I am" and "I have a story". The journeys I have travelled are tales waiting to be told, tales filled with adventure.
My life like most of my kind began at a coin mint where I was cut, pressed and polished (a rather painful process but you know what they say about suffering for your beauty and boy was I beautiful). I may have just been one in a million but I was determined to be the change. The time came for my evaluation and I past all tests with flying colours. As a young graduate there was a passion burning inside of me motivating me to make it out in the working world.
For all those who have started sinking back in their seats and the rest who hold their heads up with their hands, I hope you have used the opportunity to make yourselves comfortable because I have told you the story of my beginning but it is now time to begin my story.
As much as I was excited I was scared. I had no idea what to expect. All that I had to go by were the legends told of life as a coin in circulation. I landed my first job in a small retail shop and fortunately for me it wouldn't be long until I was out of there.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. It was dark and stuffy inside the till but the sound of items being scanned could mean only one thing: There would be a few moments when the cashier was counting change during which we could catch a glimpse of the outside world and if you were lucky score a free ticket out of there. Today was my day! I felt myself moving towards the light and from the warm sweaty hands of the cashier I landed in the soft palm of what I could easily have mistaken for an angel. She gently slipped me into her pink purse and then into her designer hand bag.
"Please, ma'am."
The small voice woke me from my daydreams. Ripped from the heavens I was placed in the cupped hands of a Stellenbosch bergie. Her fists quickly clenched and I felt the warm embrace of desperation. I hit the bottom of her rusted tin with a clink landing besides a plastic beaded bracelet and a few half smoked cigarettes. Every second in the jar felt like an eternity but in the fast moving world of today I knew it was inevitable that I would soon be traded in. I would move from hand to hand, wallet to pocket and back again. I could move from city to city in the space of a day and soon I would have travelled right across the country.
Life threw me a curve ball when on a day I fell from the torn pocket of a young rocker. "FINDERS KEEPERS!" A young boy bent down and picked me up from the ground. He inspected me thoroughly like the day I had left the coin mint. He put me in his pocket with his well-kept bat-mobile and pulled me out again only once we had reached the safety of his own home. He grabbed the piggy bank off the shelf, holding it with two hands careful no to drop it as he placed it on the floor. With pride he inspected me one last time before gently pushing me through the slot on the porcelain pig's back. It is here that I would spend most years of my life.
Eventually coins like me would lose their value and production would be discontinued. Many years after this there is the possibility that I could be declared rare and then only will my worth increase again. The young boy will possibly pass me on to his son who will in turn pass me on to his son and I will make sure that I brought this family good fortune because...
...if I were a coin that were treated with care, I'd be a lucky coin.
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