Mom stands at the counter, carefully counting out four pennies for each of her children. Her voice is gentle yet firm as she holds the coins in her palm, extending them toward her eldest.
"Before you leave, remember to put four pennies in your pocket. You never know when you’ll need the proper change," she says, her eyes warm but insistent.
Sam, the eldest, fingers the coins, curiosity flickering across his face. Ella, younger and more impulsive, skips ahead, the coins jingling with each leap.
"Why four, Mom? Why not five or ten?" Sam asks, slowing down as his mother walks beside him.
"Four is just enough—never too much, never too little. It teaches you to plan, to be prepared but not weighed down," she replies, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Ella selects a piece of candy, her excitement palpable. At the counter, she realizes she is short by just a few cents.
"Oh no, I don’t have enough," she murmurs, eyes wide.
"Check your pocket, Ella," Sam suggests, a grin spreading across his face as Ella discovers the four pennies her mother gave her.
Mom sits with a steaming mug of tea, listening to her children’s stories as the world grows quiet.
"Sometimes the littlest things can make the biggest difference," she says softly, her words lingering in the cooling air.
In the schoolyard, Sam offers a penny to a classmate in need, echoing his mother’s words with pride. Ella teaches her friend to keep pennies in her pocket too, their laughter ringing out in the autumn breeze.
Sam and Ella hug their mother, gratitude shining in their eyes. The four pennies remain a simple, enduring reminder: to be prepared, to care for others, and to cherish the wisdom passed down through generations.
"Four pennies, for every step you take," she whispers, her voice steady and full of love.
