The Litmus Test

I was visiting with my old friend Andrea, my new friend Alie, one in the same. She was in the kitchen making us breakfast after her morning jog. I slept in on the couch. Now I was sitting in the kitchen, my feet propped-up on a chair, my elbow on the table, my head resting in my hand, telling one of my stories.

All of a sudden there’s a kid standing in the open front door. Uh oh, what’s he trying to sell? I think to myself, but ask “What’s up?” anyway.
“How much is this?” he asks holding up a Tasmanian Devil stuffed animal.
Oh yeah, Alie’s free box, I remember. “Nothing,” I tell him, “It’s free.”
He spins around, “It’s free mom,” he says from the top of the porch, holding the devil up in the air like he just won a prize.

Then he goes down the steps, out of my view, and I hear him again - “It’s free,” with excitement.

Then I know: The joy of getting something for free? It's pure.