Some people live, while others just wait. My lonely old neighbor Vincent was one of those individuals. He would sit in his wheelchair every day and look out at the road as if he were waiting for something that never came. He never smiled or talked more than once until the day our worlds intersected.
Do you ever just sit in your car after you drop the kids off at school and look? It feels like everything—bills, laundry, dinner, and life—are pushing down on your chest, challenging you to do something about it.
That morning, I had one of those times. I was just sitting there, grasping the wheel, and thinking, “What is the point of anything when it feels like I’m just surviving?”
I brushed it off. That’s what moms do: we shake it off, keep moving, and move on.
But that day, for some reason, I thought of a man who once told me that life has a purpose. He said that even when you think no one can see you, you are important.
The man who never smiled was named Vincent.
My two boys, Ashton and Adam, who were 12 and 14 at the time, and I moved into my dad’s old house. They were all slim and often got into trouble. It wasn’t much, but it was ours.
That night after we moved in, I discovered Adam in his new room crying and holding an old picture of his grandfather. “I miss him, Mom,” he said gently. “I miss Dad too,” I said. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
I held him close, and my heart broke. “I miss him. It’s okay to feel how you do, sweetie.”
“Sweetie,” Adam’s voice shook. “He left us.”
“That’s his loss,” I answered firmly, even though my heart wrenched. “Because loss.” And Ashton? “You’re thAshton?” “ng that has ever happened to me.
My husband left us years ago to be with another woman. He always paid child support on time, but he never called or sent gifts to ask how the kids were doing.
I understood better not to trust anyone because my mother left when I was little. Now it was just us against everyone else.
There was also Vincent, who lived next door.
His house was next to ours, and it was always silent. He never had friends over; he only went out to get food. He sat in his wheelchair on the porch and looked out at the road as if he were waiting for something that never arrived.
When I saw him, I would say “Good morning.”
He would say, “Hello.”
That was the only thing we had in common. He just said “Hicommon.ng” and “Hello.”
I thought this was how life would be: being a mother and a homemaker, with no noise and days that ran together.
I was astonished when my boys did something I had told them not to do for years.
They came in the door as I was washing the dishes, making a lot of noise and being excited.
“Hey, Mom, look at what we got!” Ashton yelled and held on tight. “ll of fur that was moving.
A cute German Shepherd puppy crawled between them, its big ears jumping and tail waving as if it already belonged. When Ashton carefully put one down on the floor, I couldn’t believe what I saw.
“Excuse me? Where did you find that? “I blinked and asked, ‘Is that already?'”
Adam promptly said, “He was free.” “This woman was giving them away,” she said, “and if no one wanted them, they would go to a shelter.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Did you really think that getting chesty would make things better?” “
“He’s so little!” Ashton made a point: “He’s not small!” “Eat a lot.”
point d. “Yes, my friend, I was tiny onlaughed. See how that came out?
“Please, Mom!” Adam begged. “We’ll take care of Mom!” you begged.
Ashton then looked at me with love in his eyes. “Please, Mom. You’ll love him. His eyes are so cute.
When I saw their hopeful faces, I remembered how I used to dream of obtaining a dog when I was a kid. Those dreams ended when my mom left and took her dog with her.
“Mom? “Mom?” Ashton’s voice was low. “Do you “Mom?”hat Grandpa used tolow. That every home needs a heart?
What do you say? There wasn’t enough air. Dad always wanted us to get a dog, but I was too frightened that I would become attached and lose it.
When I saw the puppy, I sighed. He was really small, and his eapuppy was too big for his head. His tail wagged like he loved us more than anything else. There were more of them than the planet. of me.
I inquired, “What’s his name?”
“Asher!” Ashton yname? “
“No way,” Adam said. “He looks like a lion.”
answered.se tell me which one is best.”
I rubbed my temples. “Guys, I don’t know. He lootemples.”
The puppy barked a little.
“I choose Simba!”
Ashton moaned, “Simba!” “de a fist. We gotgroaned.t like that.fist.
Two weeks later, when we were walking Simba down the street, we heard Vincent’s voice for the first time outside of our normal hellos.
“Hey, can I talk to you?” “
I was astonished when I turned around. He was observing us from behind a fence. To be more specific, he was watching Simba.
I pondered about it for a second, but then I waved and stepped over. “Yes?” “
“I used over in German Shepherds,” he added. “When I was in the Shepherds.”
The way he said “used to” made my heart hurt.
He also asked, “Is it okay if I pet him?” “
I nodded, and Vincent stepped nearer. His hand, which was worn, reached out. As soon as his fingers touched Simba’s fur, things changed.
He smiled.
I had never seen him smile before.
He said, “Can I give him a treat?” “
“Yes, of course.”
He maneuvered his chair closer to his house, but before he could even reach to the door, I heard a huge CRASH. I walked inside and saw him sitting on the floor with a bowl of broken cookies at his feet.
He said, “I’m fine,” but his hands were shaking.
“No, you’re not,” I said as I knelt next to him. “That’s okay.”
His “him.et mine,fine.” I could tell that they were full of grief from years of things we hadn’t talked about. “Sometimes I forget,” he said in a hushed voice. “I reach for things that used to be there, like my legs still…” His voice broke.
He told her to get up and go to bed, but she didn’t listen. At that time, I didn’t see the pictures on the walls. Many of them. walls.
t, younger, and in a uniform. He was next to uniformed shepherds who were standing still, hopping over things, and waiting for commands.
I turned around and stared at him. He was gazing about.oto in particular: a younger Vincent standing in the midst of a field with five shepherds around him and his hand up in the air as if to give orders.
He pointed to the biggest dog and said, “That’s Shadow.” “While I was on dudog.e, she saved my life twice. The last time…twice. “Her last time coslot. “Her
He said, “I miss it,” and there was something sad in his voice. “All I cared about was dogs.” My family. I have a family of dogs. I had it.
He paused for a time before saying, “I didn’t get married.” He didn’t want to get married. There were no kids. They were enough.
He softly said, “That was it after the accident.”
I took a big breath and looked at his legs. I didn’t need to know what had occurred. He was still alive, but his life was finished.
“Can you help my boys train Simba?” “I asked.
He was astonished to see me. “What?” “
“You know more about Shepherds than anyone else,” Vincent said. “Teach them.” “Teach me.”
them.n’t know—”
“I do,” I answered firmly. “You NEED to.”
He had tears in his eyes. “Why? Why tears? Why?” to help an old man who is hurt?
I answered, “Because no one is broken,” thinking of how I was hurt. “All we wounds.o feel whole again.”
Vincent’s fingers were wrapped around the arms of his wheelchair, and his knuckles were white. He looked blankly for a long time, his mouth twitching as if he were attempting to swallow something big.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said with a sigh. “It’s been a long time.”
I got closer. “Then gicloser.ry.”
There was something in his eyes that I’d never seen before: hope, longing, and a battle between wanting to believe and being too scared to. Finally, hto.k took a big breath and closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were trying to understand something deep inside himself.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it,” he said.
My eyes were burning, yet I couldn’t help but smile.
Vincent became a part of our life from then on. Every afternoon, he sat in our yard and instructed my boys what to do, how to do it better, and how to get them to do it.
“Adam, don’t use an angry voice; use a firm one.” “Simba lone.” “to confidence, not fear.”
“That’s nice, Ashton, but don’t let them eat too many snacks.” He has “nacks.”w orders without expecting a reward.
Adam was sad during training one day because Simba wouldn’t listen. “I clisten.his!” “I’m this!” “That’s enough!”
Vincent turned around, and his voice was soft but strong. “Do you son? Why did I enjoy working with Shepherds? Because they are like people… They need someone who believes in them and is patient and kind. “Just lkind.rust you.”
Over time, Simba went from being a loud puppy to a well-behaved, smart dog. What a time! As the boys got older, they learned to be more patient and responsible.
What about Vincent? HeVincent? again, and his once lonely life was suddenly full with meaning, happiness, and something he thought he had lost forever.
forever. One morning, he came to my porch with a book in his hand.
He gave it to me and said, “I wrote this a long time ago.” “Hoago.” “ain shepherds.”
I read his exact notes in ink on the old pages.
He looked at Simba and said, “You gave me back something I thought was lost, Sandra.”
My throat hurt. “I wish we had met sooner,” I said gently.
He said, “Maybe we met at the right time.”
I nodded and pushed the lump in my throat down. Throat is more than just a neighbor today. Henow.ike a member of the family. Maybe, just maybe, we had saved each other.
A year later, I was driving home after dropping the kids off at school. school. I wasn’t looking at anything. I was watching Vincent put up an agility course in his front yard for Simba’s afternoon training.
Adam emailed me, “Mom, don’t forget that tomorrow is Vincent’s birthday.” What should we do that’s fun? “
I smiled as I thought about how Vincent helped Ashton with his history assignment on military service dogs last week. He sat up late recounting stories about his time in the army, his voice full of pride and anguish.
That night, when we all got together for our monthly family supper, I watched Vincent smile at one of Adam’s jokes. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and Simba laid at his feet, adoring and guarding him like the lions in those old pictures.
“You know, I used to think God had forgotten about me,” Vincent remarked. The boys were putting away the dishes. “In that recliner, I could see life go by… I thought I was done. He hadn’t forgotten. He was just waiting for the right time to give me what I needed.”
“What was that?” “Even though I already knew the answer, I asked nonetheless.
He stretched across the table and gripped my hand tightly. His eyes were full of anguish. I had a reason to smile again.
I just nodded, and my eyes filled with happy tears. Vincent taught us that every ending can be a new beginning. His wheelchair was no longer a prison; it was just his position at our family table.
And what about meme?e times in the car in the morning had alaltered.didn’t have to wonder what the aim was ananymore.knew the answer: love.The point was family.The goal was to assist other people in discovering their purpose.
Sometimes the goal was to make a wounded veteran smile again.
