The mission entrusted to me
On the day of discharge, Harold pressed a key ring into my hand. “Not for safekeeping. Use it.” My hand felt light, but the responsibility was heavy. “What’s the name?” he asked. I answered without hesitation: “Sidewalk Helpers ATX.” He nodded. “Long, but not bad.” His laugh lines were deep and kind.
I cleaned up the workshop, took photos, and posted them on social media. “We fix sidewalk problems. Materials are donated, labor is free. Want to learn? Join us.” The initial response was quiet. But then the BBQ shop owner from the shopping district showed up with lumber. “Fix the bench in front of my shop too.” The first request came with the scent of smoke.
