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xxjeeennn033
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posted June 20, 2010 at 4:42pm UTC tagged with cute
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- Please read-true story (not me) I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back. The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.' Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?'' The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.'' Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. 'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.' I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.' His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.'' My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.' Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. DRUNK DRIVING. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.' 'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check Again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'' 'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!' Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' 'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.'' 'My mommy loves white roses.' A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy? Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him. Now you have 2 choices: 1) Repost this message, or 2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart
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- We met in kindergarten. We were best friends. She always told me she loved my eyes. I didn't quite know why. I was in love with her, so of course my face lit up immensely whenever she said it. She was beautiful, kind, and extremely funny. We'd be talking about nothing, and she'd turn to me and whisper, "I like your eyes." One day, I was playing basketball, waiting for her to drive over to my house to have a game with me. Suddenly, I got a phone call. It was her mom. She was in a panic. I couldn't quite understand what she was saying. It sounded like, "Aaron, come quick! Kelsey, accident, Main Street! Blood. Come now!" I had no clue what happened, so I ran to Main Street with my basketball shorts and a tee shirt on. I saw Kelsey's mom helplessly crying, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I saw a totaled car, blood everywhere. Then I saw her, Kelsey. My heart stopped as I frantically ran over to her. "Kelsey? Kelsey!" She was unconscious. I started crying. I know it isn't very manly, but I couldn't help it. Before I could say anymore, the medics took her away, the main source of blood coming from her head. I went to the hospital that night, I went every night. in fact, the only time I left was to go out to eat, but that's it. The doctors tried getting me to leave, but I refused. It was all my fault. If it wasn't for me, wanting to play basketball with her, she wouldn't be going through this. It was already four days, and she hasn't woken up. On the fifth day, I saw her eyes gently open. "Kelsey?" I called. She wasn't quite awake yet. Suddenly, doctors came rushing in, telling me I had to wait outside. I did, for a few hours. One of the doctors finally came out saying, "I understand that you're Kelsey's friend, Aaron?" "Yes," I whispered. He bit his lip. "She woke up, she's fine, but I'm afraid she has long term memory loss." "Are you serious?" I almost shouted. "I'm afraid so." I didn't meet his gaze. I couldn't. I wasn't going to say anything, so he spoke again. "You can go see her if you want, but she doesn't remember anything, not even her mom." I walked in, trembling in horror. I saw her. She looked helpless as she slept. I waited a few hours, until I saw her eyes opening gently again. I expected doctors to run in, rushing me out. Instead, she looked me straight in the eyes, and whispered, "I don't know you, but I like your eyes."
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