We arrived ready to pull weeds.
We rang her doorbell twice, and then I heard footsteps, slow and deliberate.
She smiled and guided us through her tiny home. Greeting cards lined the mantle and every tabletop in the living room.
She led us to a small flowerbed in back of the house.
“I’d pull them myself, but I just can’t see.”
I nodded. I knew nothing about flowers.
We started to pull, yanking out as many flowers as weeds, but after ten minutes, we finished the job.
“Wonderful, just wonderful. What an improvement!”
And we giggled because we knew the flowerbed hadn’t changed much.
She invited us inside and insisted we drink a Coke.
“You sure have a lot of cards.” There must have been fifty.
“Tomorrow is my birthday. I’m ninety-two. These came from all around the world. Some are even in different languages.”
I picked up the one with teddy bears and balloons. Yes, what was that, German?
"I worked with the Red Cross for years. I met so many people. I’m glad they remember me. I never had a husband, no children, just friends, friends that are far away now."
I picked up another card. Someone filled the entire inside with handwritten, warm wishes. I imagined each sender taking the time to buy, write, and send a card to let her know they still think of her.
“Are you doing anything special for your birthday?”
“Yes," she smiled.
"Visiting with you.”
Question for you: Do you know someone who is lonely? Neighbor, child, friend, relative? How do you show that person extra attention?