While browsing my phone outside the corner store, I saw a seven-year-old going across the parking lot. I thought he was hanging along, but he wasn’t. The person he approached attracted my attention, not how little he looked in his scuffed sneakers. Three police officers spoke and drank coffee near their cars. You know how people avoid them, especially here. But this boy? He stood up, chin raised, like he had something important to say. I stopped scrolling. My hearing was limited, but I noticed him gently tug on an officer’s sleeve. All looked down, shocked, and leaned in. The…
Author: World Wide
So that occurred fast. Jalen, my seven-year-old, wandered out while I was managing groceries and a crying child. He vanished from the cart in an instant. Stomach fell like a rock. He was with a state trooper when I saw him across the parking lot. Big guy in his mid-40s, buzz cut, pallid, looked like a TV character. I’ve had enough awkward encounters to make my heart race. But when I went closer, Jalen wasn’t weeping. He held something shiny. The trooper smiled softly and pointed to Jalen’s chest. “I told him he’s in charge until Mom shows up,” he…
Tired from my third job, I drove home with my three daughters in the backseat. Using thrift shop booster pillows instead of car seats proved unsuitable. However, rent, groceries, and electricity made new car seats seem too expensive. I thought no one would notice if I drove safely and kept my head down. I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror after the intersection. I stopped, mentally preparing. A ticket would be too expensive this month. Two pleasant but serious officers approached the window. They quickly saw the girls in the rear with unsecure legs. My stomach sank. One…
The call was another usual report—an abandoned puppy shivering behind a trash. When dispatch mentioned it, Officer Marcus Hayes rolled his eyes. He had already handled personal conflicts and petty larceny for ten hours, so an animal rescue expedition was the last thing he needed. But orders were orders. Marcus knew what to expect in the poorly lighted alleyway off 5th Street: a fearful, vulnerable animal left alone. Rain had returned, turning the tight path into a slippery obstacle course of pools and rubbish. He saw the small person hunched against the brick wall through the darkness with his flashlight.…
The mounted officers paused to let people admire the horses. Kids laughed, parents took photos, and life went on. The small park where they stopped on their patrol was illuminated by the low sun. One of those few instances when responsibility seemed like connection rather than labor. Suddenly, a wheelchair-bound girl came, her eyes bright with wonder. Her mother stood by her, holding the chair handles like a treasure. The girl focused on Luna, the tallest chestnut mare, whose coat shimmered in the dying sunlight. Her hands lay softly on her lap, but her body leant forward, magnetically pulled to…
His electric wheelchair was unresponsive, leaving the old guy on the sidewalk. Drivers and pedestrians passed without stopping. An cop stopped. Sir, what’s wrong? He asked, crouching beside him. The man sighed. “Battery dead. More often than desired.” He gripped the armrests, his voice tired. The officer looked around—no charging port or easy remedy. He pushed the wheelchair with both hands without hesitation. The man blinks. Son, you needn’t— The officer only grinned. “I got you.” He pushed the man home block by block. As they approached the house, the elderly guy said something so softly and meaningful that the…
I was furious when I read my mom’s response. I read the phone message at least ten times. Was she serious? She spent her life providing me with “everything I needed”? Why was I struggling now? To be honest, I felt abandoned, betrayed, and hurt. I started typing a passionate answer then stopped. So I decided to chat to her in person. Maybe she didn’t realize how hard things were for me. I phoned her. I said, “Mom, I don’t think you get it,” when she answered. “I’m drowning here, and you’re living like a queen.” Other end, she sighed.…
The store was packed, with consumers speeding by without looking. A small boy strolled beside a police officer with his tiny hand holding the cart’s side in the turmoil. In the aisles, they carefully passed toys and clothes until the officer stopped and knelt beside him. “Pick whatever you need, buddy.” He hesitated, clutching the trolley with his little hands. He whispered and glanced up. Are you sure? The cop nodded. Of course. Each person deserves something. The child gazed down at his worn shoes, then up at the possibilities on the shelf. Instead of picking a toy, he turned…
The officer anticipated a typical conversation—kids ask many questions at these gatherings. “Drive a police car?” Has a bad guy been caught? This tiny child differed. Sitting across from him, she held a little notepad. She wore a pressed school uniform and shoes slightly above the floor. His smile was pleasant. “What do you want to ask me?” She paused, looking at the man beside her. She took a deep breath and murmured something that made the officer frown. It wasn’t about sirens or badges. It was far deeper—no child should wonder. He had no words for the first time…
