the larger jingling ones

Backstory.

Big brother Do spent 8 days at the Riflemen’s camp, Level II course. During the whole time, he had the chance to call home three times. Every call was carefully listened to by his sister, Patricija, right beside me.

Yesterday, she suddenly appears in front of me.

With a generous handful of coins:

“Can you change these for bigger ones?” she asks.

“What are you going to buy?” I ask, curious.

“I’m not buying anything. I’m giving a gift.”

Even more intrigued, I press:

“Who are you congratulating?”

“Dominykas. For successfully spending time without us. Without candies. Without fishing. Without his own bed.

And for eating food he doesn’t like at home.

And for not being afraid of lightning or thunder, and going into the forest.

And for not crying when it was hard—and not calling you.”

We exchange the coins for bigger bills.

It comes to twenty.

With a small bag of “Bon pari” candies, wrapped in a handmade envelope, she greets her brother today.

On the envelope it says:

“I’m so happy you’re back where it’s good. Buy something from the fisher’s shop.”

My heart tightens for a few reasons.

For the little ears that not only hear—but feel.

For the knowledge that home is wherever it’s truly good.

And most of all, for the fact that they love each other.

That “sister-and-brother” love in our house doesn’t speak much.

It’s silent. It just jingles—through coins received at the flea market and exchanged the day before.

V.