Then I Remembered My Grandmother
As I sat there thinking about it, a memory surfaced.
A few weeks earlier, my grandmother had visited.
She had spent the afternoon chatting, helping tidy the house, and doing the little things grandmothers always seem to do without anyone noticing.
The realization hit me immediately.
There was only one person I could imagine doing something like this.
That evening, I called her.
The Answer That Melted My Heart
“Grandma,” I asked carefully, “did you put something under my mattress?”
There was a brief pause.
Then she laughed.
A warm, familiar laugh.
“So you found it?”
I smiled.
“It was you.”
“Of course it was,” she replied.
“I know you’ve been stressed lately. I thought a little blessing couldn’t hurt.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
What I had mistaken for something frightening turned out to be something entirely different.
Not a warning.
Not a threat.
Not an infestation.
Just a quiet act of love.
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