Barry turned eight today. I wanted to make it special, but money’s tight. I scraped together enough for burgers at the local diner. When the waitress asked about dessert, I hesitated, and Barry, noticing, said, “I’m full,” though I knew he wasn’t.
That’s when the man at the next table—a park ranger named Timmons—spoke up. “Mind if I get the birthday boy some cake?”
Barry surprised us both. “No, thank you, sir. I wanna save the wish.” He said last year he wished for a bike and didn’t get one, so this year, he wanted to wait until he knew it could come true.
Timmons smiled. “I think I can help with that.” He paid for the cake and told us to wait.
Twenty minutes later, a truck pulled up. Out came another ranger—with a shiny red bike, ribbon and all.
Barry’s eyes lit up. “Mama? It’s mine?”
“All yours, kid,” Timmons said. The bike had been donated, just waiting for someone who needed it.
As Barry rode circles in the parking lot, laughing, I blinked back tears.
That night, as I tucked him in, he whispered, “Maybe next year, I’ll wish for something for you.”
Today reminded me that even when life is hard, kindness and hope are still out there—and sometimes, wishes really do come true.
