When I was a kid, birthdays were simple—balloons, a cake my mom baked, and maybe a toy I’d begged for all year.
But one gift always stood out: a small wrapped box from my grandfather. Every year, without fail, it contained the same thing—a little green plastic soldier. I never questioned it. He was a veteran, so I assumed it was just his way of sharing something from his past. I’d smile, thank him, and tuck it away in a drawer.
Year after year, the soldiers piled up. By high school, I had a whole box of them, all identical—or so I thought. Then, on my last birthday, my sister looked at me in disbelief. “You seriously haven’t noticed all these years?” she asked, flipping the soldier over in my hand. Tiny words were etched into the base: “You’re in college now. Try to be more attentive.” My heart raced. What had I missed?
That night, I pulled out every soldier I’d ever received. One by one, I turned them over, discovering the messages he’d left. “Be brave, little man.” “Always protect your sister.” “Stand tall, even when you feel small.” Each carried a lesson, a quiet whisper of love and wisdom I’d overlooked for years.
