From one person to another. Passed down from the elderly to the youngins. Grandpa to father and down to the son. It is continuously passed down through the generations, being used harshly and fully. This brown leather wallet, 3 flaps with cuts, scratches, and scrapes from gift cards and credit cards sliding in and out. I flip the 3 flaps open and closed paying for my wants and needs. The money in the outermost slit is a result of my grandpa, my father's, and my hard work. 

I can still remember the day, a bright and early Monday morning.  I know we are in the 2000’s now, but my father and I had just finished splitting wood as it would become supply for my grandpa’s fireplaces in his barn and house. There was a fresh scent of maple and redwood each with their distinct lucious smell. The trees were blowing in the summer wind and the sun was ricocheting off the metallic black, wood splitter. Earlier in the day, my grandpa vanished into his house as he always did, because he was older than my father and I, meaning his endurance isn’t what it used to be. So finishing his daily break he came out with what was his version of a present for me. Although it wasn’t the greatest present I ever received, I still was very grateful for the used, triple slotted, premium leather wallet my grandfather handed me. The feeling of that moment hasn’t struck out of my mind since then. I have been able to remember every minute of it because of the importance that that little, 2x2, piece of polished leather has to me. 

Passed down through the generations, the rugged, old money holder. My grandpa got his best use out of this wallet holding all of his hard-earned cash to support the 7-person-filled family. Then replacing it, and giving it to my father who put a little less stress upon the triple flapped wallet replacing most of that cash with his debit and credit cards that he would swipe in a reader and slide back in the wallet like a breeze of wind. Toward the end of its journey the worn-out, beat-up brown wallet is in my broke high school student's hand. Most likely only possessing 2 bills and a gift card or two to support me in my life. It has an amazing and endured adventure none would ever think a wallet has been through, visiting all the way out to Arizona, being left there and retrieved once again. All this just to be given to me and live its final days. 

I am exhausted, to the point I could start sleeping upon command. I'm dripping with sweat like I was swimming in the ocean. Covered in dirt, I had just finished working, the job's finally done, a week later. A fresh layer of concrete is smoothed and textured on this 900,000 dollar, modern mansion's back porch. It is all finished, my dad is speaking with the client, while I am packing all of our supplies up. The owner of the home is extremely pleased with the completed job. The hard work pays of for the happiness and the money both. 

A 5 foot 10 inches tall, hard working boy loves himself some money. His body, built into a taller figure with not too much muscle, scrawny like a corn stalk in an open field. Ever since he was little, his favorite place to be was anywhere outisde, where the air could breeze through his hair and the sun would shine onto his pasty white skin. He was full of humor and love. His mindset was always to finish anything he started, so when it came to jobs he always worked his butt of. That way, any money he got, he had to deserve, that was his mentality. The best feeling ever to this white, scrawny boy was stuffing that cash into his wallet, his old crusty wallet.  

The best days to experience were those in which money was placed in my hand, or pocket if my hands were dirt-stained, and my father would say “There ya go buddy, that’s your paycheck”. Just getting that freedom of having money was enough, the crisp, clean 100$ bills, with Benjamin’s face looking me in the eyes, gave me that freedom. The fact that I didn’t have to ask my mom for money anymore and receive that glare meaning, ‘I just gave you money yesterday really…”. That’s why my wallet was so good. I could buy whatever I wanted since “I used my own money, why does it matter?”. I had freedom and a little bit of love for money because of that wallet. All because of my raggedy ol’ wallet.

Of all the things this tiny little thing has brought to me, the best of them all is the thought of my grandpa. The importance of him to me is tremendous and this wallet allows him to be in my head daily. The thought of him, everytime I purchase anything, impacts me hugely by motivating me to just work my hardest in every aspect of life. From here on out, I will continuously glance at my wallet whenever I really need it and life will be so much easier again. Trying my best, I will preserve this leather wallet until it's on it's last life so that I can have my grandpa with me until the weight of an object from him dies.