It was my birthday that day, and my grandfather gave me a gift—a piggy bank. It had an opening through which one could put money in, but the opening was not big enough to reach in and get the money out. The only way to get the money was to break the piggy hank open. My grandfather explained that was the whole idea. And he added. "The piggy bank would help save your money so that, at the end of the year, you might have enough for that bike you dreamed about." He asked if I would put some of the money he gave me into the piggy bank. I agreed immediately and promised sincerely, "I wouldn't break it open until I could afford my dream bike."
Whenever my grandfather gave me some pocket money, he would say, "This is for spending. But you can save some and put it in the piggy bank if you want to save it up." When he gave me larger amounts, it was clear for me to save the extra money in the piggy bank. For some time, this worked fine. I loved shaking the piggy hank and hearing the sound of the coins. As it became heavier, I grew more excited, dreaming about buying my new bike, and all the adventures I could have on it.
Whenever I wanted to take some money from the piggy bank to buy delicious ice-creams or beautiful presents. I would imagine riding my bike on the street, and thinking of that, my thoughts about buying those things went away. So for almost three years. I had only put money into the piggy hank without taking any out. I thought I wouldn't break my piggy hank for anything. Bat one day something unexpected happened. I saw a piece of news on the television that a serious earthquake had happened in a nearby province. As many houses were destroyed, a lot of children became homeless. Seeing their shabby clothes and crying faces. I was sleepless that night. Staring at my piggy bank. I was thinking about what I could do with it.
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The next morning. I took out my piggy bank and shook it. …… Hearing the noise. my grandfather came over. |
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