Before my daughter was born, my husband and I used to make trips to a little town north of our home to visit his parents. They lived in a little hamlet with only a post office which was about 45 minutes away back then, long before the busy bypass that exists today was ever thought of. On these trips we spent the time listening to music and making plans. We were young and invincible and getting older seemed like something that happened to other people but not to us.
About halfway through the drive was a wide place in the road known for little else besides being a speed trap. We knew this stretch of blacktop like the back of our hand and were seldom disappointed when looking for the police car carefully hidden behind a stand of overgrown brush along the road. Funny, but years later, it still has that same reputation. Some things never change while others seem to change in the blink of an eye. It was not until years later that something on these trips changed me. Well it was not a thing at all, but a person.
Up on a bluff above the two-lane road stood two ramshackle whitewashed houses. Both were badly in need of a coat of paint with sagging porches and missing clapboard. At first glance, you might assume these were abandoned long ago based on the apparent level of neglect; that is until you noticed a little old woman in a rocking chair all alone passing the day in a monotonous rhythm of creaking boards and cars zooming by. Regardless of the weather or whether it was morning, noon, or night the old woman was there and would acknowledge your passing with a nod of her white head.
It always made me sad that I never saw anyone visit her. The matching rocking chair next to hers was always empty and no cars ever graced the dirt driveway that ran along the front of the two houses. There were no brightly colored flower baskets hanging from the porch in summer and no jack-o-lantern in the fall. No Christmas tree ever glowed brightly from her front window. Life passed, uncaring within a stone’s throw of the old woman on the hill.
As the months and then years went by, I wondered if she lived off the meager garden that grew beside the front porch. Although I never saw her tend it, I imagined she got up with the sun to pull weeds and that she canned the small bounty to make it through the winter months. Over and over again, I contemplated stopping to find out if there was anything she needed. I thought of calling the church down the road and asking them if they knew her. But I never did anything.
It was none of my business. I did not know her, and she did not know me. It was not my responsibility. It was somebody else’s job. I was young and we could barely make ends meet ourselves. On and on went my rationalizations as we passed her by with a wave of our hand, thinking that was enough. Acknowledging or understanding the needs of someone alone never occurred to us. I realize more than ever these days how selfish that was.
Eventually we moved away, and I forgot all about the old woman on the hill. It was many years before I returned to the area and that stretch of highway saw a lot of changes. If you never knew what was there before, you would have a hard time imagining what it was like back then. A 4-lane highway now winds its way past what used to be the land she lived on. It is as if she and the two rundown houses had never existed.
I cannot help but wonder how both of our lives might have changed had I listened to that inner voice that told me I should stop and visit the old woman on the hill. I wonder if she would have enjoyed sitting on the porch with me, drinking sweet tea and telling me stories of her life. I wonder how long she had been alone and if she had once had a husband to love her, children to care for her and grandchildren to sit on her knee. I wonder if I could have made a difference in her life. I realize now that she made a difference in mine without ever knowing it.
It is funny how life comes full circle. This pandemic has taught me that. Today I am the old woman on the hill. I am she and she is me. I wave to those who pass by my front porch. I am happy when they stop to talk and ask whether I need anything. It means more to me than they will ever know. Going forward, I will take more notice of people who might need my help, friendship, or a simple acknowledgement. I hope if this has served any purpose at all, that we are more kind, more tolerant and more loving to everyone because when you get right down to it, loving your neighbor as yourself is more than a Bible verse. It is a way of life.
I am not alone on this porch. God is beside me even when nobody else can be. With His love and grace, I will get through this just as you will. I like to think the old woman on the hill is looking down from heaven on me today and smiling because she knows I learned a valuable lesson. She knows what I did not back then: She was never alone at all.
