Oh dear, coins do have a way of carrying memories. When I was a girl, my granddad would tuck a shiny silver penny into my pocket before any big trip. He’d say, “Keep it safe, and if you ever feel lost, just look at it.” I remember that penny ending up in my attic box of treasures, and later on, when I was learning to read, I’d stare at the tiny inscription and feel like I could understand the whole world. The family would gather around the kitchen table, and grandma would tell stories of how a single coin had helped buy a new set of needles for my mother, or how a handful of coins were saved for a holiday. It’s funny how a tiny silver coin can become a bridge to generations, isn’t it?