I thought I was just going fishing with an old man I’d met by chance, but a letter months later revealed a secret that would change my life forever.

Living in an old trailer wasn’t so bad, or at least that’s what I told myself. It was just me and Mom. Since Dad left when I was six, we had kept our distance from that part of our lives.

“Adam, can you grab the mail?” Mom would call from the couch, her legs propped up due to an old injury. She worked long shifts at the gas station just to keep us afloat.

Most days after school, I found ways to occupy my time outside. Little did I know, my life was about to change at 13.

One day, while tossing a deflated soccer ball at bottles set up like bowling pins, a shiny black SUV rolled up. Out stepped an old man, probably in his 70s, leaning on a cane but smiling warmly.

“Hey there,” he said. “Mind if I take a shot?” He pointed at the bottles.

“Uh, sure,” I replied, unsure.

He chuckled. “Let’s make it interesting. If I get a strike, you owe me a favor. If I miss, I’ll give you a hundred bucks. Deal?”

“A hundred bucks?” I exclaimed. “Deal!”

He threw the ball, knocking down every bottle. “Looks like I won. Now for that favor,” he said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come fishing with me tomorrow at the old pond.”

“Fishing? Okay, let me ask my mom.”

“Great, I’ll wait.”

I went inside, but Mom was asleep. I decided she wouldn’t mind. “Alright, I’ll go,” I told the old man.

The next morning, he picked me up, and we drove to a secluded pond.

“This place means a lot to me,” he said softly as we set up our fishing gear.

After an hour with no bites, I asked, “Why this pond?”

He looked out over the water, sadness in his eyes. “I used to come here with my son. We were poor, but we always found time to fish. He got sick, and I couldn’t save him.”

I felt my chest tighten. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked back tears. “That’s when I promised I’d never feel that helpless again. I worked hard, but I never had another child.”

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your son’s watching you. He’ll see you catch that fish someday.”

Just then, a float dipped. “The float!” I yelled.

We both grabbed the rod, pulling hard, and tumbled into the pond with a splash.

“Well, this is one way to catch a fish!” he laughed. We pulled up a huge fish, and he danced in triumph.

Later, he drove me home. “Thank you, Adam,” he said, filled with gratitude. “Today meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”

The next day, a man in a suit knocked on our door. “I’m Mr. Johnson, Mr. Thompson’s assistant. He asked me to deliver this.”

Inside the package was more money than I’d ever seen. “It’s for you and your mother. Enough to move into a proper house and cover her medical care,” he said.

Tears filled my eyes. “But why?”

“Mr. Thompson was moved by you. He sees his son in you.”

Months later, I received a letter from the old man. It read, “If you’re reading this, I’m watching you from heaven. Meeting you gave me peace. I’ve left you everything you need to succeed. Remember what you told me? Don’t give up.”

Fifteen years later, I stood on the porch of the house I built for Mom. “You never gave up, Adam,” she said, smiling. “He’d be proud.”

“I hope I’ve made him proud.”

“You have,” she replied. “And he’s watching. I know it.”

I looked up at the sky, feeling that warmth again.