text: She was only seven years old and already she understood the value of money. Just one penny got her a gum ball. Ten pennies got her a candy bar, or a scoop of ice cream; always vanilla with sprinkles. She understood money alright, in the simple way that everyone does. Enough of it always gets you what you want. What she didn't understand was why her Father didn't seem to get the same simple concept. She made protest once, and he laughed at her. "Because it's fun, my dear. We get to watch the train go by, and then we get to look for the pennies that got squashed on the track." She scrunched her face together, with the hint of an unbelieving smile. He got close to her and made a face. "Because it's fun!" Then he tickled her. After she gathered all the pennies with her father, she would put them in a small box. She just assumed these bubbly oblong shapes, with the strange alien face that was once President Lincoln, would still be worth something. But there was something else special about these pennies, something that was never spoken or even a fully formed thought; these strange pennies only ever came into her possession when she was with her father. The only time she ever lost a penny, was the same day as the accident. By early afternoon she had already laid and collected 10 pennies from the dusty ground surrounding the track. After she had picked up the last one, her father looked at his watch, and grabbed her hand. "Alrighty, my dear, it's time to head home. Your Papa has to be at work in an hour and a half." But she wasn't ready. She wanted to stay all day, and she made her feelings known in the innocent girlish way that no father can resist. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single shiny penny. He handed it to her. "You're going to make me late, but I think we can do one more anyway. Hurry, next train should be here any minute!" She quickly ran to the tracks, put the penny down, then ran back and embraced her fathers leg. She stared at the penny with unrelenting anticipation as her father picked her up and walked behind the fence. A few minutes later they heard the rhythmic rumble of the approaching train, and they watched through the cracks of the fence as boxcar after boxcar rolled by. She always looked for the twirling shine of the penny as it rocketed through the air, but she never saw it. After the train went by, they searched for the penny. She ran every which way, examining the ground, and never finding her prize. Finally, her father called to her. "I'm sorry darling, but we have to hit the road. I'll be late as it is." She continued looking, a worried and desperate look taking the place of pure concentration. She couldn't find it. This would be the only one she hadn't been able to find. She had to find it. She felt the force of her fathers arms swing her into the air and over his shoulder. "We have to go." There was a touch of loving impatience in his voice. She reached for the tracks and begged to be put down. "We'll get it next time." But there wouldn't be a next time. After her father left for work, she never saw him again. She was 87 years old, and would sometimes disappear from her room. She had bouts of Alzheimers, and whenever they hit she was prone to wandering away from the facility. The first time the staff panicked. They never lost anyone. But after finding her once, they always found her in the same place. When they found her, they would approach slowly and put their arms carefully around her. They would lead her away, always saying the same thing. "You know how dangerous the tracks are. We don't want you to get hurt." She would plead with them, a sad desperation in her eyes. "But my penny... I must find my penny" They would always shake their head, and recite the same simple line. "You'll find it next time.