When the $250,000 inheritance from my parents cleared in our account, my wife and I sat in silence, staring at the balance. For years, we’d scrimped and saved, always putting our kids first. But this time, we made a bold choice—we decided to spend it on ourselves.
At first, guilt gnawed at me. Shouldn’t we help our kids with college or a down payment? But our grown children surprised us. “Spend it on yourselves,” our son urged. “You’ve earned it.” So, we bought a camper and hit the road, visiting national parks, getting lost on purpose, and rediscovering each other without the weight of parenthood.
The freedom was intoxicating. We sang along to old songs, hiked unfamiliar trails, and shared stories under starry skies. One evening by a Montana lake, my wife whispered, “I forgot how much we’d lost ourselves in being parents.” It wasn’t just a trip—it was a rebirth of our marriage.
Then, in a Wyoming diner, we met Mae, the kind owner who’d spent decades serving others while her own travel dreams gathered dust. On impulse, we gifted her part of the inheritance. Months later, postcards arrived from places she’d only dreamed of. Our kids, inspired by Mae’s courage, pursued their own passions—our son took a photography sabbatical, our daughter launched a social enterprise.
That money didn’t just buy us freedom—it created ripples we never expected. Sometimes the most generous thing you can do is fill your own cup first.
