Grandma’s Hidden Message

I cared for Grandma in her final years while my siblings focused on their families. When she died, they got her jewelry; all I got was her old car. Crushed, I left it for a year. Today, I took it for a drive. A cassette started to play—it was Grandma’s voice. She said, “Open…” Her words cut through the static, “the glovebox, sweetheart.” My hands trembled as I pulled it open, revealing a small velvet pouch. Inside was a locket, engraved with “My True Treasure.” A note in her

handwriting read, “You were my rock, not the jewels. This holds my love—keep it close.” Tears welled up as I opened the locket; it held a tiny photo of us laughing together. The car, once a symbol of my resentment, became a vessel of her love. Grandma knew I’d find her message when I was ready, turning my bitterness into a cherished memory of her unwavering affection.