“Jason!” I called with a strong voice.
“I should be asking you that!” I yelled. “What is this place?
Why aren’t you at school? And why is he here?”
“I’ve been sending you money—our money—for tuition, thinking you were in college.
Were you ever enrolled?”
“No.”
“I’ve been using it to fund something…important.
Uncle Tom’s been helping me.”
“I’m building a veterinary clinic.”
“Mom, this is my calling,” Jason said, his voice steady. “You and Dad wanted me to take over the business, but that’s not who I am. I want to help animals.”
“You bet:ray:ed us!” I shouted, my voice cracking.
“You’ll never see another penny from me again.”
Three months had passed and I hadn’t spoken to Jason.
Then, one day, an envelope arrived via mail. The letter read: “Dear Mrs.
Reed, Thank you for believing in your son and financing his veterinary clinic. Recently, my dog was hit by a car, and your son saved her life.
If it weren’t for him—and for you—she wouldn’t be here today.”
Over the next two weeks, additional letters and emails came in.
Each one shared a similar story: animals saved, families reunited, and lives transformed—all thanks to Jason. I was unable to sleep one night and ended up searching for Jason’s Veterinary Clinic online. I grabbed my keys.
On the opposite side, Jason knelt over an examination table, tenderly inspecting a scruffy dog and chatting softly to a sobbing woman.
“I know I hurt you. I know I lied, but—”
“Jason,” I interrupted, my voice breaking.
“I was wrong.”
“You’ve built something beautiful. Something that saves lives.
I’m so proud of you.”
Jason’s eyes glistened as he approached me.
“That means everything, Mom.”
I turned back to Jason, my heart at peace.
