For as long as I remember, my grandmother always gave me the same tiny plastic sheep for my birthday — every single year — and for the longest time, I had no idea why. They weren’t expensive or fancy, just little sheep figurines with colored bells, sitting on a shelf like dozens of silent memories.
When I was younger, I thought it was a joke or maybe just Grandma being quirky. She always greeted me with a soft, raspy “Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” and placed the little box in my hands, her eyes full of pride even though I didn’t understand the meaning behind the gift.
By the time my 19th birthday arrived, she had fallen ill. A few months later, she passed away quietly, and the world felt emptier somehow, like a piece missing from myself. I missed her gentle voice, her soft smile — and yes, even those strange little sheep.
A year after her death, on my 20th birthday, my mom brought me another gift — one more plastic sheep, the last one. She said Grandma gave it to her before she died and wanted me to have it. I opened the box slowly, heart pounding, and felt an ache in my chest I hadn’t expected.
Alone in my room, I stared at the new sheep among the others. That’s when my older brother, Sheldon, walked in and said something startling:
“Have you ever looked underneath them?”
I turned one over in my hand — and there it was… a tiny message inscribed under the sheep.
“I love you.” Then a small number.
I blinked in shock. Every sheep had a message and a number underneath. Suddenly those random little toys weren’t random at all — they were a puzzle. With trembling hands, I started arranging the numbers in the order I received the gifts. It wasn’t long before a pattern appeared… it looked like a bank account number.
The next morning I found myself standing outside my grandmother’s local bank, clutching the sequence of numbers like treasure. The teller looked at the paper, then her eyes widened. A consultant came out and confirmed what I’d guessed — my grandmother opened an account in my name when I was born.
I asked the question I could hardly believe:
“How much is in it?”
His answer stunned me:
“Over $120,000.”
And that wasn’t all. The consultant handed me a tiny key. It unlocked my safety deposit box — also in my name — where I found a handwritten letter from Grandma. Inside, she explained that she set everything up years ago, quietly saving and planning so I’d have financial security in life. Her note said she made me figure out the puzzle first — a way to make sure the gift came from love, not obligation.
Later, I stood at her grave with flowers and tea, just like she loved. I poured a cup beside the headstone and whispered with tears in my eyes:
“Thank you, Nana… you gave me more than I ever imagined.”
