There’s this really old lady who lives down the street from me. I don’t know her name, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know mine. But that doesn’t stop her from calling me “Bella” and kissing my cheek in greeting every time she sees me.
It had been about a month since I saw her watering the plants and talking to the other neighbors. So one day, I asked after her. Her daughter answered the door and told me her mother was in pain from arthritis, and that it’s affecting her ability to walk around. I expressed my condolences and asked if I could see her. This lady, who is in pain every time she walks, insisted to get up and meet me and the first thing she said to me was, “Are you OK, Bella? Do you need anything?”