Daniel's Special Delivery

While his mom watched from her porch, Daniel made little footprints as he brought a gift to Jason, an old neighbor who recently had a stroke. Three doors away was a long journey for a three-year-old, especially on a cold winter day.

Jason had carved wooden toys for Daniel since he was one. They were separated by seven decades, but they were kindred spirits.

Daniel rang the doorbell and waited a few minutes. He was shivering, so he left the gift on the porch and ran home, slipping and sliding in the fast-falling snow.

“I hope he likes it,” he said when he returned home.

“I hope so too,” his mom echoed.

Jason had heard the doorbell but didn’t want to see anyone, or more precisely, he didn’t want to be seen. His eyelid and mouth were slightly droopy on the right side. His right arm was limp and lifeless.

Later, fighting self-pity, he went to retrieve the package. He tore off the paper with his left hand. He was barely able to lift the heavy statue. At first, he couldn’t decipher the image of a profoundly distorted, clay man. The name, “Jasn” was engraved on the base. It was an image of him, even more malformed than he was.

He clutched the statue tightly to his heart and started to weep.

A few minutes later, his right hand slowly moved up as if it had a power of its own. It touched his face to wipe away the teardrops.