It was my birthday. My parents were busy, so my older sister took me to the mall. She bought me ice cream, let me pick a toy, and treated me like royalty. We were laughing when she spotted a homeless woman and her daughter nearby. My sister watched them, her smile fading. She gave me a look. “Are you okay if we share your ice cream?”

Confused, I nodded.

She walked over and gave the cone to the little girl. Then she handed the toy to her too. “Happy birthday,” she said softly.

I was upset. That was my gift! But my sister crouched down and whispered, “You’ll get many more birthdays. I just wanted her to feel special—just once.”

I was quiet the whole way home.

That night, my parents surprised me with a cake and more gifts. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl. The next day, I asked my sister, “Can we find her again?”

She smiled, teary-eyed. “I hoped you’d say that.”

Moral: Sometimes the best gift isn’t what you get, but what you give. And compassion? That’s a legacy worth passing on.