Pete Wilson sat beneath a bridge in the early morning rain, the cold biting through his thin jacket. For the past eight months, he’d lived on the streets, learning how to find shelter when the weather turned harsh and how to stretch his small supplies just to make it through each day. Today was his 42nd birthday, but it didn’t feel like a cause for celebration. Pete hadn’t had a birthday party in years, let alone a birthday cake. Survival had become his only priority, and today, like every day, he was focused on finding food, shelter, and warmth.

Pete’s stomach growled in protest as he rummaged through his plastic bag, pulling out half a sandwich he had saved from the church handout the day before. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He tore it in half, sharing it with Ray, a fellow homeless man who had a limp from an old injury. Ray’s face lit up in gratitude, and Pete couldn’t help but smile. He had been taught by his mother, Sheila Wilson, to share even when he had little to offer. “Sharing makes the food taste better,” she used to say, and Pete still held onto that lesson, even in his dire circumstances.

As Pete and Ray ate their meager breakfast, Pete thought about the years before he ended up on the streets. Once, he had been a decent basketball player, and the game had been his escape from his troubles. Now, all he had were old sports newspapers, and even that small comfort was fleeting. The rain began to ease, and Pete decided to head to the recycling center, hoping to turn in a few cans for a bit of cash. $5 might not seem like much to most people, but for Pete, it could mean a warm meal.

On his way, Pete passed through Jefferson Park, his mind still occupied by the constant struggle of survival. It was then that he saw something unusual—a dark square object lying in a puddle near a bench. At first, he thought it was just a book, but as he approached, he realized it was a wallet. Not just any wallet, but a luxury leather wallet that felt soft to the touch. Pete’s curiosity got the better of him. He hesitated briefly, wondering if it was really his place to touch it. He was homeless, after all. But no one was around, and his instincts told him to investigate.

Pete opened the wallet, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the driver’s license inside. The photo belonged to none other than Michael Jordan, the basketball legend he had admired for years. Pete’s hands trembled as he sifted through the wallet, finding $2,000 in cash along with credit cards and business cards from various important contacts. For a man who hadn’t eaten properly in days, the money was a small fortune. Pete’s mind raced. That amount of cash could change everything—he could afford a room at a motel, buy new clothes, maybe even see a doctor for the persistent pain in his chest.

He closed the wallet, tucking it safely into his jacket pocket, but a voice inside his head told him that keeping it was wrong. He thought about his mother and the lessons she had taught him about doing what was right, no matter how hard it was. Sheila Wilson had always emphasized honesty and integrity, no matter the situation. Pete had always struggled with his circumstances, but he knew what his mother would say now: doing the right thing isn’t about what others deserve; it’s about who you choose to be.

As Pete sat under a tree, trying to make sense of his options, he remembered a childhood lesson. At the age of ten, he had found a $20 bill outside a grocery store. He had been thrilled at the thought of buying candy, but his mother had made him return it to the store manager, teaching him that doing the right thing was more important than any temporary reward. The memory made Pete’s chest ache. His mother had passed away twelve years ago, but her lessons still lived in him.

Pete had always prided himself on doing the right thing. But now, with $2,000 in cash and the chance to change his life, the temptation was overwhelming. What if he just kept the money? What if Michael Jordan, a wealthy man, would never even miss it? But Pete knew that wasn’t who he was. His dignity and his sense of right and wrong mattered more than the money, more than any fleeting comfort he could buy with it.

Pete stood up, his aching knee protesting the movement. The decision had been made. He would return the wallet. He didn’t care if no one believed his story; he would do what was right because that was the man his mother had raised him to be. He carefully put the wallet back together, making sure everything was in its place, and pulled out a business card he found inside. It was for the Grand Palmer Hotel, and the card included a note: “Meeting in lobby 7:00 p.m.” Pete’s heart skipped a beat. He realized this was his chance to return the wallet to Michael Jordan personally. It would take hours to walk across town, but Pete knew that nothing could stop him from doing what was right.

Despite his hunger and the pain in his knee, Pete set out. Along the way, people avoided him, crossing the street to stay clear of the homeless man. He had grown accustomed to the stares and the looks of disdain, but today, he walked with purpose. Every step was a reminder of the choice he had made. The journey was long, but Pete kept going, knowing that his mother would be proud of him for doing the right thing.

By the time Pete reached the Grand Palmer Hotel, it was late in the afternoon. His knee was throbbing, his stomach empty, and the reality of how different his life had become weighed heavily on him. He approached the gleaming entrance, feeling out of place in his worn clothes and ragged shoes. The doorman eyed him suspiciously as he stepped closer, but Pete didn’t hesitate. He had come this far, and he wasn’t going to back down now.

“I need to see Michael Jordan,” Pete said, his voice rough. “I found his wallet.”

The doorman’s face hardened, and he told Pete to move along, clearly not believing his story. But just then, a sleek black car pulled up, and Michael Jordan himself stepped out. Pete’s heart skipped a beat. He called out to Michael Jordan, and to his surprise, the basketball legend turned toward him. Michael stopped the security guards from ushering Pete away and listened to his story.

Pete pulled out the wallet, careful to show that nothing had been taken. Michael Jordan was taken aback but nodded in appreciation. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. For Pete, this was all the reward he needed. He had done the right thing, and it had led him to this moment. Despite everything he had endured, Pete had maintained his integrity. It wasn’t about the money or the recognition—it was about choosing to be the person his mother had taught him to be, the person who would always do what was right, even when it was hard.