My grandma goes to the temple every year to burn incense.

The words she said to Buddha, I heard once.
It's not for peace, not for wealth.
She said, this year she saved five hundred yuan.
Gave you two hundred.
The remaining three hundred, bought a pair of shoes for her grandson.
She kowtowed three times.
Stood up.
Put two hundred yuan into the merit box.
Then took out a handful of change from her pocket.
Five yuan, ten yuan, one yuan.
Counted three times.
Gathered three hundred.
Took me to the town and bought a pair of sneakers.
On sale.
Seventy-nine yuan.
After returning home, she placed the shoes in front of my bed.
Attached a note:
Buddha said, shoes are better than incense.
She never went to school.
But she knew, Buddha wouldn’t wear shoes.
I would.
Last year she passed away.
Packed her belongings, found a passbook from under her pillow.
Deposited fifty yuan every month.
Saved for ten years.
The back of the passbook says:
For her grandson’s college tuition.
She pressed the passbook under the merit box.
Didn’t tell Buddha.