I had many boring moments everymorning. I was just sitting, gripping the steering wheel, wondering, “What’s the point of anything when you feel like you’re just… surviving?”
But that day, my mind drifted back to a man who once reminded me that life DOES have a purpose.
His name was Vincent, the man who NEVER SMILED.
When my dad passed away, I packed up my life and moved into his old house with my two boys, Ashton and Adam — 12 and 14, all lanky limbs and always naughty.
In the night we move to this house, I found Adam crying in his new room, clutching an old photo of his grandfather. “I miss him, Mom,” he whispered. “And sometimes… sometimes I miss Dad too. Even though I know I shouldn’t.”
My husband had departed years ago, choosing another woman over us.
My mother had walked out when I was little, so I knew better than to count on anyone. It was just us three against the world now.
And then there was Vincent, my neighbor. His house sat right next to ours and was always quiet.
“Morning,” I’d say when I see him.
“Morning,” he’d answer.
And that was the extent of our relationship. Just a “Morning,” “Hi,” and “Hello”… and nothing more.
Until my boys brought home what I had prohibited them for years.
“Mom, look what we got!” Ashton yelled.
“Excuse me? Where did you get that?” I asked.
“He was free,” Adam added quickly. “This lady was giving them away. She said if no one took them, they’d end up in a shelter.”
I crossed my arms. “And you thought bringing home a puppy was the solution?”
“He’s small!” Ashton argued. “He won’t eat much.”
I snorted. “Yeah, buddy, I was small once too. Look how that turned out.”
“Please, Mom!” Adam begged. “We’ll take care of him. You won’t have to do ANYTHING.”
Then came the puppy-dog eyes from Ashton. “Pleeeeease, Mom. You’re gonna love him… he’s so cute.”
My breath caught. Dad had always wanted us to have a dog, but my fear of attachment and loss had always won out.
I sighed, looking at the pup.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Asher!” Ashton declared.
“No way,” Adam countered. “He looks like a Simba.”
“Mom, say which one’s better.”
I rubbed my temples. “I don’t know, guys, he looks like a —”
“Simba it is!” I decided.
Two weeks later, we were walking Simba down the street when I heard Vincent’s voice for the first time beyond our usual greetings.
“Miss, may I have a word?”
I turned, surprised. He was sitting at his fence, watching us. Or rather, watching Simba.
I hesitated but walked over, waving my hand. “Yes?”
“I used to train German Shepherds,” he said. “Back when I was in the service.”
Something about the way he said “used to” sent a dull ache through my chest.
“Would you mind if I pet him?” he added.
He turned his chair toward his house. I heard a loud CR.A.S.H.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“No, you’re not,” I said softly. “And that’s okay.”
His eyes met mine, filled with years of unspoken pain. “Sometimes I forget,” he whispered. “I reach for things like I used to, like my legs still…” His voice broke.
His gaze was locked on one particular photo — a younger Vincent in the middle of a field.
“That’s Shadow,” he pointed to the largest dog. “She saved my life twice during my deployment. The last time…” He swallowed hard. “The last time cost us her own.”
“I miss it,” he admitted. Dogs were my whole world. My family. My everything.”
He hesitated before adding, “I didn’t marry. Didn’t want kids. Didn’t feel the need to. They were enough.”
His eyes welled up. “Why? Why would you want to help a broken old man?”
“Because no one’s broken,” I said, thinking of my own scars. “We’re all just… waiting to feel whole again.”
“I don’t know if I can still do this,” he wearily admitted. “It’s been years.”
I stepped closer. “Then try.”
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
A smile pushed its way through my lips, even as my eyes burned.
From that day on, Vincent became a member in my family. Every afternoon, he sat in our yard, playing with my boys through commands, corrections, and rewards.
Meanwhile, Simba transformed from a hyper pup to a disciplined, intelligent dog. And my boys? They grew more patient and more responsible.
And Vincent? He was alive again. His life was filled with purpose, laughter, and something he thought he’d lost forever.
