One of them held up a photo. “Is this your son?”
I nodded, heart racing. My son, Marco, padded in, pajama-clad. The man introduced himself as Mr. Raines, aide to August Harrison. “You helped Mr. Harrison yesterday,” he said. Marco shrugged. “It was twenty bucks and some oranges.”
We were whisked to a mansion on Maple Hill. In a glass atrium, a thin man with dark shades and a cane sat beneath lemon trees. Harrison, once the head of GreenSun Foods, explained how blindness had left him bitter—until Marco’s simple kindness reminded him the world still had color.
He offered Marco a scholarship and me a job at his foundation. Then, to my shock, my ex-husband appeared, summoned for signatures. Marco stood firm: “Mom raised me.” For once, Ramon seemed humbled.
Back home, Marco decided his scholarship project: turning a vacant lot into a playground. Four months later, neighbors, kids, and even Ramon helped build Mapleview Pocket Park.
At the dedication, Harrison whispered, “A little kindness planted a forest.”
And it all began with twenty dollars and a bag of oranges.
