When my friend Linda became too ill to take care of herself, she went to live with her son. I kept in touch with her, and she often came to visit me at my retirement residence. One day, I noticed a small bruise on her cheek. I asked her what had happened, and she said she’d tripped and hit her face against the wall. I let it go but I was a bit more concerned when she came in with a cut on her lip a few days later.
One day I dropped by to surprise her and to take her out for lunch. I was about to ring the doorbell when I heard some screaming. Peering in the window, I saw her son yelling and waving his arms around. Linda was crouched in front of him, tears rolling down her bruised cheeks. Then I saw her son punch her!
I was furious. I quickly got inside my waiting taxi and returned to my residence to ask for the staff’s help. They notified the police who arrested Linda’s son. The staff also helped me make arrangements for Linda to come and live at my senior residence. Today, Linda is doing much better. She’s a bit upset that her son is in trouble. I wonder how anyone—especially her own son—could have laid a hand on such an angel.