My Prized Possession

It lay on my hand, my most prized possession. It was a coin. Platinum and silver on it were blissfully blended. However, time had made it as grey as the light of a soft moon. It was as smooth as a waveless sea and pale like pastel parchment. Circular and as small as like tiny stars lightening a ruined world. If I dropped it on the white polished floor the clinking sound would ring in my ears, the reflected sunlight would sting my eyes. The coin smelt musty and mouldy. I did not love it because of its looks or value, I loved it because it had a story. 

My grandfather was a mysterious man. He always seemed to be lost in a world that did not exist. His mother had given him this coin when he was just a boy. It sparkled like a pearl and was as rough as sandpaper then. Its value was one paisa. He had not known what to do with it so he kept it safely. It was not long before his mom passed away the coin being the only thing she gave him, my grandfather valued it a lot. 

When I was six years old, my grandfather gave it to me. I remember the encounter well. I was sitting on a bright red sofa eating a tangy but sweet mango. I could smell the fresh, juicy scent. The bright orange colour made my eyes look at it even harder. It was as smooth as butter when I dove my teeth into the pulp. My grandfather held out the rusty, antique coin which filled the air with the scent of damp, old, wood which has become mouldy due to the lack of fresh air. He explained how he got it and why it meant so much to him considering it was the only belonging of his mother left in the world. He said he would forget its value and he wanted his memory to last forever, and that could only be achieved by passing it on. he placed the silver coin on my smooth, pale hand. I was young then so I did not fully understand what he had trusted me to do. When I got home I kept the coin in my piggy bank. "Clunk" it went into the pale, pink plump pig made of plastic. I forgot all about it.

Nine years later today, I had taken it out and I finally understood how much of my family's memories were in this little silver mass of metal. My grandfather had said that memories last forever only if you pass them on. The words had depth and it was one of the most meaningful things I had ever heard, yet the inanity of it all made me smile to myself. I took out a paper as white as milk and placed it on the uneven, rough, wooden table the coin next to it. I wanted to write my grandfather a letter about exactly what I felt when I understood the story behind the coin, but somehow the paper stayed empty and I could not have described it any better.