My son no longer helps me or answers my calls. He always says he’s “too busy.” One day, as I stood on a crowded sidewalk with my shoelaces untied and knees aching, a stranger wearing a leather vest noticed me. Without hurry or complaint, he knelt down and carefully tied my shoes. With a warm smile, he said, “You don’t need your son anymore. You’ve got us.” A few weeks earlier, my fridge was almost empty. I called my son, asking if he could bring some groceries—just bread and eggs. He sighed and said he was working late and couldn’t help. That night, I ate only two saltine crackers…
Categories: General
