Easter brunch was in full swing when five-year-old Roman walked in — dressed head-to-toe as a scuba diver. Wetsuit, flippers, snorkel, even a spray-painted soda bottle for an oxygen tank. Turns out, someone joked that the Easter Bunny hid eggs in the fish pond… and Roman believed it.
With serious determination, he marched outside. Moments later, he pointed at the water: “I found one! It’s shining!” He reached in and pulled out not just a shiny stone — but a small, worn-out key.
He called it a “key egg,” proudly claiming it would unlock the “secret egg vault.” But when Grandma saw the key, her face changed. It was the old barn key — the one she’d hidden long ago.
We followed her to the barn. Inside, untouched for decades, sat a dusty Easter basket. “Your grandfather made this for your mom… before he passed,” Grandma whispered, tears in her eyes.
Roman’s innocent hunt had uncovered something sacred — a memory long buried. That day, he didn’t just find a key; he unlocked a forgotten piece of our family’s story.
Sometimes, the smallest hands open the biggest doors.
Share if you believe the past still has gifts waiting to be found.
