The Coin

I was at the lowest point of my life — business failed, marriage struggling, self-worth at zero. I was walking along the Chicago lakefront at dawn, not sure what I was going to do next in any sense of that phrase. I looked down and there was a coin on the path. Old, worn, a wheat penny. On the back someone had written in tiny letters with what must have been a pin: "Still here." I have no idea who wrote it or when or for whom. But I picked it up and put it in my pocket and walked home and called my wife and asked if we could try again. We are still trying. The coin is on my desk.