Free Treasury of Joy & Inspiration by Editors Of Reader's Digest

yours?”
    The second he saw it, he smiled with relief. “Yes,” he said, “that’s it. Must have dropped it this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
    â€œOh, no thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
    The smile on his face disappeared. “You read that letter?”
    â€œNot only did I read it, I think I know where ­ Hannah is.”
    He grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was?”
    I hesitated.
    â€œPlease tell me!” Michael urged.
    â€œShe’s fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her.”
    â€œCould you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something? When that letter came, my life ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”
    â€œMichael,” I said. “Come with me.”
    The three of us took the elevator to the third floor. We walked toward the dayroom where Hannah was sitting, still watching TV. The director went over to her.
    â€œHannah,” he said softly. “Do you know this man?” Michael and I stood waiting in the doorway.
    She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word.
    â€œHannah, it’s Michael. Michael Goldstein. Do you remember?”
    â€œMichael? Michael? It’s you!”
    He walked slowly to her side. She stood, and they embraced. The two of them sat on a couch, held hands and started to talk. The director and I walked out, both of us crying.
    â€œSee how the good Lord works,” I said philosophically. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
    Three weeks later, I got a call from the director, who asked, “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?”
    He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yup, Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
    It was a lovely wedding, with all the people at the nursing home joining in the celebration. ­ Hannah wore a beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark-blue suit and stood tall. The home gave them their own room, and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 78-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
    A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.



Christopher Reeve’s Decision
    By Christopher Reeve
    July 1998
    condensed From Still Me
    O n memorial Day weekend, 1995, my world changed forever. I was competing in an equestrian event in Virginia when my horse, Buck, decided to put on the brakes just before the third jump.
    When he stopped suddenly, momentum carried me over the top of his head. My hands got entangled in the bridle, and I couldn’t get an arm free to break my fall. All six-feet-four-inches and 215 pounds of me landed headfirst. Within seconds I was paralyzed from the neck down and fighting for air like a drowning person.
    I woke up five days later in the intensive-care unit at the University of Virginia hospital. Dr. John Jane, head of neurosurgery at the hospital, said I had broken the top two cervical vertebrae and that I was extremely lucky to have survived. He told my wife, Dana, and me that I might never be able to breathe on my own again. But my head was intact, and my brain stem—so close to the site of the injury—appeared unharmed.
    Dr. Jane said my skull would have to be reconnected to my spinal column. He wasn’t sure if the operation would be successful, or even if I could survive.
    Suddenly it dawned on me that I was going to be a huge burden to everybody, that I had ruined my life and everybody else’s. Why not die, I thought miserably, and save everyone a lot of trouble?
    As family and friends visited, my spirits were on a roller-coaster ride. I would feel so grateful when someone came a long way to cheer me up. But the time would come when everybody had to