Sam looked up and smiled that same warm smile he’d given people his whole life.
— “I am. And this is my brother, Matthew.”
— “I… my son…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Tears streamed down her face.
Sam stood up and walked over to the wheelchair. He knelt down to the boy’s level.
— “Hi! What’s your name?”
The boy turned his head slightly toward the voice.
— “His name is Andy,” the mother said through her tears. “He stopped seeing six months ago, after…”
Sam raised a hand, gently stopping her.
— “You can tell us later. Right now, something else is more important.” He gently took the boy’s hand. “Andy, want me to tell you a story? It’s about a boy who thought he’d lost the light forever, but found something even more precious.”
Matthew came over and sat nearby.
— “You know, Andy,” he said, “many, many years ago, I was a boy who couldn’t see, too. And one day in this very park, a barefoot, messy kid came up to me and said a very strange thing.”
— “What?” Andy asked quietly.
— “He said he was going to put mud on my face.”
Andy smiled slightly.
— “And what happened then?”
Sam and Matthew exchanged the same look they’d shared for over fifty years.
— “Then,” Sam said, “the miracle began. But the real miracle wasn’t in the mud or the stories. The real miracle was that one boy decided to trust another. And that care turned out to be stronger than any fear.”
Andy’s mother watched the scene, unable to believe her eyes. Her son, who hadn’t shown interest in anything for months, was now listening intently to these two strangers.
— “Andy,” Sam continued, “you know that inside you, there’s a light that never goes out. Sometimes we just forget where the switch is.”
— “Can you help me find it?”
Sam smiled.
