“The money isn’t much, but I want my children to live with righteousness and harmony. Don’t make my soul sad in the afterlife.”
My mother passed away on a quiet late-autumn morning, fading as softly as a small oil lamp going out. She had spent her whole life working tirelessly and left behind no wealth—just a modest, weathered house and a few old possessions.
The funeral was simple. My two older brothers and I—the eldest, the second, and me—sat together to decide how to divide what little she left. Inside the cramped room, aside from an old wooden wardrobe, nothing held any real monetary value. Only three frayed wool blankets, folded neatly by her hands. I looked at them without speaking, my chest aching. Those blankets were tied to every memory of my childhood. But my eldest brother scoffed:
“Why keep these torn blankets? Better to throw them away.”
My second brother chimed in with a sneer:
“Exactly. They’re not worth a cent. Whoever wants them can take them. I’m not carrying trash.”
Their words stung. Had they forgotten those freezing winter nights when we curled up together, and Mom—shivering in her patched coat—covered each of us with those very blankets?
I pressed my lips together and said quietly,
“If you don’t want them, I’ll take them.”
The eldest waved his hand dismissively.
“Whatever. They’re trash anyway.”
The Secret Between the Blankets
The next day, I brought the blankets home to my small apartment. I planned to wash them and keep them as keepsakes. But when I shook one out, I heard a dry clack!—something hard had fallen to the floor. My heart skipped a beat. I bent down and found a small brown cloth pouch sewn into the torn lining.
With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside were several old savings books and a few ounces of gold, carefully wrapped. The total amount exceeded a hundred thousand dollars. I gasped.
Mom, who had lived so simply all her life, without a trace of luxury, had quietly saved every penny—hiding her fortune in those old blankets.
Tears poured down my face. Memories flooded back: the days she sold vegetables at the market, the times she rummaged through her worn purse to give me lunch money. I had always thought she had nothing… but all along, she was saving it for us.
When I checked the other two blankets, I found two more bags. In total—nearly three hundred thousand dollars.
