“We’ll keep it right here on the kitchen shelf,” I said.

I sat there in the still air holding the bright, clean copper penny in my open palm in the late sunlight.

Noah pointed at the little copper disc lying in my palm.

“Is that one number ninety-one thousand five hundred?” he asked.

“That’s the very last one,” I said.

I closed my fingers over the penny.

The copper was still cool from the shade under the porch step.

Lily came around the corner of the porch carrying her empty jam jar.