When Dad found a bag of coins in 9-year-old Nerea’s desk, she explained Mrs. Álvarez paid her a euro weekly for laundry—her first wage. Dad, strict about money, only asked for her employer’s name. Those coins were the start of something bigger.
By high school, Nerea’s euro grew into a small empire: tutoring, dog-walking, babysitting. She saved diligently, studying receipts. At seventeen, she gifted Dad a silver watch, bought with savings and shop-sweeping earnings.
When Dad’s heart attack hit, Nerea’s savings kept our family afloat—bills paid, groceries covered, quietly. I scraped café tips in college; she was our invisible bank.
At my graduation, Nerea handed me an envelope to clear a year of student loans—her childhood coins grown through years of budgeting. No fanfare, just, “Remember the desk coins? This is the bigger bag.”
Generosity isn’t about amount but intention. Those coins taught me pocket change can rewrite a story.
