It was just a dime…

On my birthday this year my father called. We talked for awhile and he told me he had a gift for me. It wasn’t something he had recently bought. Later, when I saw what it was my heart jumped. It was my piggy bank from when I was a baby, it was the one I had in Germany. He had been saving coins in it from the year I was born. He had coins from so many places too, not just the US. But then he told me not to put any dimes in it because one of the coins that was from here and wasn’t my year was an important dime. I was confused but agreed. I was so happy with my gift. I could tell the smile was overwhelming my face. He said, “Now honey, I don’t want to make you sad, but that dime was grandma’s.” I looked at him with bewilderment and then back at my gift. “It was the only dime she had in her purse when she died and it was the last money she ever handled.” I couldn’t help it… there went the waterworks, I was crying. My grandma wasn’t the softest lady in the world. She was stern, slightly masculine, and no one would ever want to cross her, but I still loved her very much. I thought it was one of the nicest, most caring birthday gifts I had gotten in a very long time and I just wanted to share it with everyone. Sometimes a dime can still make a good gift. (Note ~ this is my other side of grandparents, not the ones that just celebrated 70 years of happiness together.)