The Happy Trio
It was splendid yesterday at the beach. That golden fall sun is starting to glow, and for reasons I can’t fathom, folks have gotten tired of sitting by the shore. Not me, and evidently, not the woman a few hundred yards down the beach, also sitting alone. Her back to me, all I could see was that she was white-haired, and had a cane stuck in the sand. But some time later, here she came, slowly making her way down at the water’s edge. I saw her gaze into the distance and thought perhaps she was wondering if she could make it all the way to the end. I was just asking myself whether I should get up and offer to walk alongside her — by now I realized she was at least 80, and quite bent over — or whether she might be offended. But then I saw she had a plan already in place.
Two women were standing ankle-deep in the water, chatting, and she made her way over to them — I saw each of the younger women offer an arm to their new acquaintance. In they all went; I was too far away to hear their words, but laughter floated up the beach, and when I looked back a minute or so later, the “lifeguards” were waiting by the shore, with the cane, and way out there was our old friend, free of her battered legs, swimming fiercely like a woman one-quarter her age.
Every once in a while I see a good deed taking place, and I think, I wish I had been a part of that. But never more than today.