So I never thought much about the account.

Until the morning of my seventeenth birthday.

Ray knocked on my bedroom door carrying a handmade wooden box.

It wasn’t perfect.

One corner was slightly uneven, and I could see where he had corrected a mistake near the latch.

But my initials were burned carefully into the top.

“J.M.”

“You made this?”

“Took about six weeks.”

Inside were statements from my college account.

But when I turned them over, I discovered something I had never known.

Ray had written little notes beside his contributions.

*Boots can wait — $40.*

*Brought lunch all week — $25.*

*Truck service next month — $60.*

Then I found another.

*Danny needed new glasses. Tight month — $0.*

The following statement read:

*Made it up this month — $80.*

I looked at him.

“You were keeping track of this?”