An elderly man was walking home in a heavy mood. The doctor had just told him, in a matter-of-fact tone, that the situation was clear and not encouraging. There was nothing to be done. Take some vitamins, maybe. And really, what had he expected? At your age, Mr. Robert Williams?
Seventy-five. Robert knew exactly how old he was. And, truthfully, the doctor wasn’t wrong—though he’d been blunt. Seventy-five is a long life. You’ve had your turn. Make room for the next generation. Don’t ask for miracles.
Robert wasn’t a wealthy man. His Social Security check was modest, and he still had to pay rent for a small room.
His daughter had sold her condo when she urgently needed the money. She promised she’d buy something else—at least a small place. But things hadn’t worked out yet. Expenses piled up. Life abroad was expensive, far more than back home. Back home, you could stretch a dollar and live simply, even on a small retirement income.
Robert nearly tripped over a puppy.
The little dog …More