Homeless Boy Asked The Biker To Take Him To See The Ocean Before He Died From Cancer

I’m forty-seven years old. I’ve been riding motorcycles for thirty years. I’ve seen a lot of things on the road.

But I’ve never seen anything that stopped me cold like that little boy sitting on a milk crate with a cardboard sign, bald from chemo, so thin I could see his bones.

I pulled into that gas station because I needed fuel. I left with a mission that would change my life forever.

“Hey buddy,” I said, crouching down to his level. “Where’s your family?”

Lucas looked up at me with these enormous blue eyes. No fear. Kids are usually scared of me.

I’m big, covered in tattoos, leather vest with patches. I look like trouble. But this kid just looked at me like I was the answer to a prayer.

“My foster mom is inside buying cigarettes,” he said. “She told me to wait here. I made this sign because I thought maybe someone would help.”

“Help with what?”

“I want to see the ocean before I die.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Like he’d already accepted what most adults can’t even comprehend.

“The doctor said I probably won’t make it to Christmas. I’ve never seen the ocean. My mom used to tell me about it before she died. She said it goes on forever and the waves sound like God breathing.”

My throat tightened. “Where’s your foster mom now?”

“Inside. She’s been inside for a while.” He looked toward the gas station door.

“She doesn’t really like me. She just takes care of me for the money. She says I’m too much trouble because I’m always sick.”

A woman came out then. Mid-forties, hard face, cigarette already lit. She saw me crouching next to Lucas and her expression shifted to suspicion.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“I was just talking to your son.”Continue reading…