One afternoon, I finally took it to a local store. The cashier scanned it, then paused, her expression softening. “Who gave this to you?” she asked quietly.
I told her about my grandmother — how she always saved, planned, and gave, even when she didn’t have much. The cashier smiled. “She used to come here every week,” she said. “She talked about you all the time. She saved little by little so she could leave something special for you.”
Her words caught me off guard. I had always seen Grandma’s frugality as caution, not care. But in that moment, I understood: her saving wasn’t just about money — it was about love stored in quiet ways.
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