My days are leisurely if nothing else. This morning I bumped into an old acquaintance at the grocery. She belongs to a women’s group I used to attend. It was lovely to see her, but I told her my days there were over. “I just don’t find much interest in discussions any more,” I said.

I think she understood. After a bit more chat, we said our goodbyes and I wheeled my small cart around the store. When I got to the checkout, I hadn’t spent fifty dollars yet. I had a “Five Dollars Off” store coupon if I bought fifty bucks’ worth of groceries, so I hastily threw some cheese and sausage into my cart to bring it in at $50. Yeah, I know. Not exactly healthy, but hey…it’s the small treats that keep us going.

The man bagging my groceries insisted that he take them to the car for me. I demurred, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

On the way to the car, I found out that he is 47 and takes care of his mom, who is widowed. His dad died of leukemia. He mentioned they were about to rent a hospital bed for his dad, but he died before it was delivered. His sister lives out of state.

I won’t say his name, but I sense he is a bit retarded but not much. What shines through is his genuine heart and wish to be of service. Of course, he likes tips, too. But today I had no small bills, so I graciously accepted his offer. Perhaps I needed a dose of his big heart. Who knows?

I am watching the new movie about Gary Shandling. His brother died of cystic fibrosis when he was about the same age as Rob when his sister died. They never spoke of him much, he said. I deeply understand. That is just how it goes in most families. It is a full-time job to bear the grief so that you can go to school, work, whatever. To discuss it is a bit unnecessary. You are living it.

Now I have time to live as quietly as I choose. The memories are dimmer now and the moments are so simple as to be boring to most people. Not to me. Not to me.

Vicki Woodyard