A Box

     The sidewalk was carved between a parking garage and the road. As I traversed it, I saw an old woman in a wheelchair. She was stopping every few feet to adjust her grip on a large flat box she was trying to carry. It looked new and slippery, so I thought perhaps I should help her.

     In my head, I stopped just before I reached her and said, “Can I help you with that?”

     “Yes,” she replied with a warm smile. I took the box from her and carried it into the parking garage. She directed me to her car, and I easily lifted it in.

     “Thank you,” she said with another smile and a touch of my arm. And I was on my way.

     But instead I walked right past her, on the sidewalk between a parking garage and the road.