“Hey, kid! Stay away from him!” Barbara screamed as she dashed over to her son Timothy, who was playing with a boy named Harry. “How dare you come here to play with my son? He doesn’t hang out with lunatics and recluses!”

“Mom!” Timothy cried. “Harry isn’t any of those! We are friends, and I was the one who invited him to play with me and other kids from the neighborhood.”

“Shut up, Tim! You have no idea how dangerous certain people can be. Don’t you know his mother is a crazy woman who never lets anyone near her or inside that stupid trailer of hers? How many times have I warned you not to see him?”

“Mom, please! Harry is a nice boy. We just….” Timothy had just started speaking when Harry interrupted him.

“It’s okay, Tim. My mom says that mothers are always right, but Mrs. Anderson,” he remarked, turning to Barbara. “My mom is very sweet. She doesn’t let anyone inside our trailer because she is scared.”

“Scared?” Barbara laughed sarcastically at him. “It’s us who should be afraid of her! I’m sure she’s up to something fishy! Anyway, keep it in mind, kid: don’t ever play with my son again! Did you understand?”

Harry’s eyes welled up to the point that he couldn’t speak. He rushed away from the park to the spot where his old, white trailer was typically parked, under a dry tree that marked the beginning of a forest that connected two suburbs.

When his mother, Tracy, saw he was crying incessantly, she was worried. “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

“It was one of our neighbors again, mom,” Harry said, sobbing. “They always keep calling you names, mom. I hate that! I hate each one of them!”

“Oh, honey,” Tracy said, hugging him. “You should never hate anyone. When people get angry, they end up saying things they don’t mean. It doesn’t mean they dislike you, or….”

“No, mom! You don’t get it!” Harry retorted. “They don’t want to understand you, or me, or anyone else. Do you even know what happened today? Mrs. Anderson called you a recluse and told me not to play with Timothy because I’m a recluse’s son according to her. Can we please leave this town, mom? I don’t want to stay here.”

Tracy didn’t know what to say at that point. She couldn’t tell Harry that her savings were running out and that her boss had fired her just that afternoon. “Honey,” she started after a pause. “Maybe we can wait for the next month before deciding something?”

“But why, mom? Why should we keep taking their insults?” The boy lost his cool. “Ughh…fine, just do what you want! I want to spend some time alone,” he grumbled as he walked away.

When Harry left, Tracy burst out crying. She cursed herself for being a terrible mother and a failure in life who had failed not just herself but also her son. She rose up slowly and walked to her bed, where she clutched a picture of Harry and kept crying. Soon, she fell into a deep sleep, unable to think of anything.

Almost an hour later, Harry returned to the trailer. “Mom, I got some bread on my way back. Can you please make french toast tomorrow morning?” he said as he entered and closed the door behind him.

He found Tracy on the bed, sleeping – or so he thought – until he observed something odd about the way she was lying there. “Mom? Did you have dinner?” he asked and shook her a little, and soon Tracy was on the floor. “Mom! What happened? Open your eyes!” The boy sobbed, realizing his mother was unconscious.

He quickly searched for Tracy’s phone and dialed 911. A few minutes later – and after what felt like an eternity to the young boy – the ambulance arrived, and Tracy was taken away. Harry sat outside the trailer, crying, his face covered with his hands.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted him. “What are you doing here alone, boy? Where’s your mother?”

When Harry looked up, he noticed an older woman in front of him. “Don’t worry, I often see you and your mother here before I leave for work, so I know you two,” she remarked with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

Harry felt a little relieved. “Mom was taken to the hospital because she fainted. I am worried about her.”

“Oh, dear,” the woman gasped. “Don’t worry; she’ll be fine. Did they tell you which hospital she was taken to?”

“Yeah, they gave me an address and number. Since I’m a minor, they didn’t allow me to go with her.”

“How about you stay at my house tonight? We can go see her tomorrow morning!”

“But,” Harry hesitated. “Why are you helping me? None of our neighbors like us. Don’t you also think we are….”

The woman burst out laughing. “Don’t let such things get to you, Harry. Everyone is mean in one way or the other.”

“Wow, how do you know my name? We’ve never…”

“Well, I notice you playing around here a lot when I get home late from work. Your mother keeps begging you to go back and sleep, but you don’t.”

“Oh!” Harry smiled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself properly. I’m Harry Stevens.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry. You can call me Mrs. Taylor. So, would you like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” the boy replied and then accompanied Mrs. Taylor to her home. They had dinner together, and the boy slept at her house that night. When they went to see Tracy the following day, they discovered she had fainted from exhaustion and stress. The doctors said she’d be in the hospital for a while, so Mrs. Taylor stepped in to look after Harry until then.

“I can’t thank you enough, ma’am,” Tracy said to Mrs. Taylor. “I’m so relieved Harry is fine. Honey, could you kindly wait outside while I speak with Mrs. Taylor?” she asked, turning to Harry. “I need to talk about something important.”

“Sure, mom.”

When Harry left, Tracy burst into tears. “Thank you for helping us, ma’am. We really can’t return your favor.”

“I’ve seen you frequently alone. Why don’t you socialize with your neighbors? I know they might be annoying at times, but they’re not all that horrible.”

“I don’t blame them for being mean to me, Mrs. Taylor. I was ashamed of my living conditions, so I never spoke to anyone. I’m an orphan, and when my husband died, I was confident that I could look after my son, but nothing worked out. We had to leave our large house and travel in a small motor vehicle. I’m a struggling writer who used to work as a waitress in a restaurant to support my son, but I was fired yesterday because I was frequently late for work. I’m nothing more than a failure. Please take Harry in. I can’t look after him. Please…I just don’t want to live anymore!” She burst out crying.

“You shouldn’t say that! Ever! For the time being, focus on getting well soon! You never know where life will take you, young lady!”

Well, Mrs. Taylor wasn’t wrong when she said that life could take a turn at any time.

One year later…

Tracy sat at a table, signing copies of her first book, “The Woman: Life Through the Odds,” which was already a New York Times bestseller. She was dressed to the nines in a suit, and there was a large crowd waiting for her to sign the copies.

Exactly one year ago, on this very date, she had returned home from the hospital. Mrs. Taylor noticed how deplorable the conditions were inside her mobile home, so she created a GoFundMe page and raised funds to assist her and Harry.

Thanks to that, Tracy, who had previously wanted to give up on everything, labeling herself a failure, had gained the strength to start afresh. She rented a small house and started working as a freelance writer during the week and as a waitress on weekends. She would stay up all night writing her book, and 9 months later, it was finally a success. She was able to send Harry to a better school, and Mrs. Taylor, who was a stranger to them, became Grandma to Harry and a mother to her.

After her book signing, as she was about to leave, Tracy reflected on how life had changed for her. A black car greeted her arrival at the exit. Her fiancé, Anderson Brown, emerged from the car and opened the door for her.

Tracy had met him for the first time at Harry’s school. He was a widower with a daughter, and she fell in love with him at first sight. Soon after, he proposed, and she agreed to marry him.

Tracy settled in the front seat and they drove home to their son and daughter, as well as Mrs. Taylor, who had moved in with them. She whispered a small prayer on her way home, thanking God for everything.

What can we learn from this story?

• We need to be patient and look for the silver lining. We, like Tracy, begin to lose hope when we face hard times. But we must not lose sight of the fact that we can overcome any obstacle if we are confident. Tracy started afresh with Mrs. Taylor’s assistance, and she is now a successful writer.
• Don’t judge a book by its cover. Tracey was embarrassed about her living conditions, so she never let anyone in, but people misunderstood her and gave her all types of derogatory names.