Growing up, I spent many of my summer breaks volunteering at the nursing home where my aunt worked. It was there that I met Edith.
Edith was in her eighties and had lived a full and interesting life. She had raised children, shared a love of dancing and travel with her husband, and visited countries around the world. By the time I met her, however, her mobility had become limited. Her children lived out of town and could not visit often, so she spent much of her time without family nearby.
We passed our days together in simple ways. We looked through photographs as she told me about the places she had traveled and the life she had built. I wheeled her to bingo and helped her dab her card. I assisted her with lunch and listened to her stories.
Although her mobility was beginning to wane, her mind, memories, personality, and desire for connection remained. She still had stories to tell, experiences to share, and so much to offer. Yet without regular companionship, it sometimes seemed as though the world had forgotten her.
I never did.