What I plan to do with my lack of Powerball winnings

The doorbell rang at 9 o'clock yesterday,Our neighbor Jordan who always calls me ma'am, could have knocked but he rang, our children long in bed.

Jordan asked for some sugar in order to make Kool-Aid. Because maybe that's too much to go without at 9 o'clock when you're in the fifth grade, enough to force you out the door into the darkness to ring a neighbor's doorbell whose name you only know as ma'am.

I was so happy my husband was home so I could hide, bra-less and he could fetch a literal cup of sugar to give to Jordan for all of his Kool-aid needs.

And that is how I always want it to be: to be asked and tickled to death able to give out from a sweet supply.

Which is why I have not bought a ticket to match my numbers to the queue of balls to watch and wait and see tonight if I should arrange for the U.S. Mint to pour some sugar on me.

Because the thing about scarcity and abundance is not in how much it depletes or enriches but in how quickly and easily it comes to give or take away.

Don't be a killjoy they'll say Here's to your loss and our gain, But for now I can meet my neighbor's gaze the Kool-Aid mustache isn't asking for a cut of what I have not whatever I can give.

To know my neighbor's thirst and to be known as one who can can sweeten the deal, that is my billion dollar winning. My life stands to lose much more than it stands to gain from a powerball, a power fall from wealth for me.