A Good Sansaritan

The sun had just set when I walked by the elderly woman in a wheelchair. She was parked smack in the middle of the sidewalk and was fumbling through her purse looking for her prescription. I asked her if everything was okay. Everything was fine when she headed to a store thirty blocks away, but now she was exhausted. With my takeout dinner getting cold by the minute, I bought her a lemonade and kept her company. She eventually agreed that she needed a cab home, and she fumbled through her purse again until she found her cell phone. I waited on the curb with her, and when the cab came, she introduced herself to me. While I had learned a lot about the three surgeries she had undergone, we still hadn’t exchanged names after 45 minutes.

“My name is Leslie. I have four girls, three sons, and eight grandchildren,” she smiled.

I told her my name…with no credentials to follow.

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