When the shelter opened, the whole town came. Gideon told the crowd that the center existed because a little boy shared what little he had. A plaque under a newly planted oak tree read: “For Michael — love never ends; it simply finds new hands.”
Years have passed. The tree is tall now, Rusty is older and slower, and Theo still visits the shelter every weekend. Sometimes, after closing at the diner, I pass by and see them — Gideon, Theo, and Rusty — bathed in the warm light from the barn.
I once feared I couldn’t give Theo much.
But in the end, the greatest thing I ever put in his lunchbox was love.
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