When I was little and I was one of only three grandkids (now I’m one of, like, twenty-five, plus many great-grands), my Grandpa Splittstoser would give me, my sister, and our cousin Josh, fifty-cent pieces and we would snap his suspenders and run around the house, giggling.
My mom kept all those fifty-cent pieces in a big coffee can. ♡ We loved clinking our coins into the can and the sound it made when you shook it.
This coin brought back all those memories for me and I shared them with the kids (and maybe the bank lady, too). Then we went to the post office (Old-school errand day, I know!) and Sully asked, “Are you going to spend it, Mom?” “Yep!” I said. And explained that its just as fun to pass it along as it is to come across it. I don’t need to hold onto the coin in order to hold onto the memory. And the sweetness that it brought me that afternoon is lovely independent of whether or not I store it away.
My Grandpa died when I was pretty young. Only the three of us eldest cousins knew him. Sharing stories with my younger cousins, my kids, … the bank lady… that’s how we hold onto our most cherished.
Passing *things* along can be joyful! And this coin is worth just 50 cents. And stuff is just stuff. The stories of connection, character, and customs are the valuable pieces that we should keep and store in our hearts. And share with our loved ones. ♡