I listen. Smiling.

 Thinking to myself about Rita Adams,
 the wonderful neighbor who taught me
 that lesson before I even started.
 Rita was one of the wisdom teachers in my life. And hers were not lectures or long descriptions of how to or when to, they were simple guides.
 I could see Rita’s wisdom in the way she lived her life,
they way she cared for her husband,
her home, her garden, and sometimes me.And we did not see each other often
 and when we did, it was short, poignant, sweet, a gift.
I would leave fresh flowers on her doorstep
 ( from my flower stand on Morehead Street where
 I sold flowers every Friday and Saturday
for three years, rain snow or sleet…and sometimes
 had flowers left over) and she would
 leave cookies on my porch.

She called one day to ask if I would help her take
some things to the nursing home where she was moving
to be with John,
he suffered from Alzheimer’s and she cared for him at home until her eyesight failed immeasurably .When I walked in their home it was almost empty. Just a couple of chairs, a bed, a few dishes, two cups, two bowls…everything was gone.
The most important things were before me:
what I could not see.
 I asked her “how?”
( continued)