The waiting room at the hospital felt unusually cold that day, and I think it had more to do with what the doctors had just told me than the actual temperature. I was holding my seven-year-old son, Liam, in my arms. He had been fighting leukemia for two years, and the treatments had taken a toll on him. He struggled to breath and placed his head on my shoulder, like he always did.
Unfortunately, we were at the point where treatment wasn’t helping anymore and I needed to take Liam home. It wasn’t that I wasn’t prepared for such an outcome, but hearing it out loud still felt unreal. We were waiting for the paperwork when Liam lifted his head and started looking around the room. His eyes stopped on a biker with a leather vest, tattoos, and beard. He was a big guy, and honestly, my first instinct was [REDACTED] – Click Here To Reveal Text By Watching A Short Ad man.
I was hesitant at first, but realizing how determined my son was to approach the biker, I agreed.
At that point, the biker had already noticed us because he stood up slowly and walked over. Once he got closer, he knelt down so he was eye level with Liam. He introduced himself as Mike, and Liam immediately started asking about motorcycles . He wanted to know so many things, such as how fast they go and what it feels like to ride one. Mike was patient and answered every question.
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