when I was twelve years old.
One day, my mother saw a beautiful blue coat in a store window. She stood there for a long time, smiling at it. Winters in our
town were very cold, and her old coat was already worn out.
“Buy it, Mom,” I said. “You worked all week for that money.”
My mother remained silent. When we returned home, she cautiously asked my father,
“Robert, could I keep a little of my paycheck this month? I need a new coat.”
My father did not even raise his head.
“Not this month.”
“But my old one is torn.”
“I said no.”
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