FIVE CENTS

My first paycheck was five cents.

I was only five years old. After helping my grandmother care for my great-grandmother, she called me over and placed a five-cent coin into my hand. “This is all I have today,” she said. At that age, five cents felt important. It meant candy or if I save more a little bag of meringue from the neighbourhood store.For a while, I happily spent the coins. Later, I began saving them.

Looking back, I realized the five cents were never really payment. They were her way of saying thank you. She made a little girl feel that even the smallest act of care had value. People sometimes ask when I became a caregiver. I usually smile because the answer is not nursing school.

It began with a wooden stool, shampoo in my hands, and five cents waiting for me afterward. Some paychecks are spent and forgotten.Others become part of who we are.

Reflection:

My first paycheck taught me that the value of caregiving cannot always be measured in money. Sometimes the greatest reward is knowing that your presence brought comfort to someone who needed you.