I honestly didn’t think my son would smile that day. He’d just finished his third round of chemo, and the meds were hitting harder now. His appetite was gone, his energy was low, and he hadn’t laughed in almost a week.
Then Officer Kyle walked in.
He wasn’t supposed to be there long—just dropping off some donated toys. But when he saw my son in his Superman shirt and the toy bow and arrow on the tray table, he didn’t hesitate. He knelt down beside the bed and asked, “You think you can hit a moving target?”
My son’s eyes lit up.
Next thing I knew, Kyle had suction cup arrows stuck to his forehead and was stumbling around the room like he’d been taken out by a superhero. My son couldn’t stop laughing. He pointed, doubled over, yelling, “Got him! I GOT HIM!”
I hadn’t heard that kind of joy from him in months.
Afterward, when Kyle stepped outside, I followed him…
Continue reading next page…