Excuse me, Ma’am, I’m no bum, he said by way of introduction, I’m just trying to get something to eat. I was in the parking lot in front of the Ross store I’d just left disgruntled. It was past midday and I hadn’t yet made it inwordpress to campus. His hair appeared to be spiked with an expensive brand of soft-touch, medium gloss, strong hold sculpting gel that probably smelled memorable up close. He wore a gray t-shirt and fashionable, stone-washed jeans. Mine was not to wonder why, nor to unleash on him the frustration that had been building since the doctor’s visit. So what, I thought to myself. So what if I appear to be on top of the world yet remained far from it. I was after all getting into a gas guzzling SUV and he appeared to be on foot though I secretly imagined his beamer parked around back and that he would give himself another hour of ‘field research on American giving habits’ before tooling back to University where his trust fund ensured the maintenance of his even tan. How could he know I needed the $10 they would not refund. Why should it matter. I gave him one of the three dollars I had in my wallet, tried to mean it when I said, Bless you, and did my best to wipe the simmering ire off my face. He was not the problem any more than the information I’d received was the problem. I was the problem as I was the one struggling with being loving and grateful regardless of the circumstance in which I found myself. I’d known yesterday, as Elder Scott was talking, that I had some growing up to do. I just hadn’t been willing to admit how much. My consolation is knowing that no matter how I feel or fare, the battle is already over and we’ve won.