old

tired grass lined the red clay
along the street side
as my car wound through a
former neighborhood
where people walked
and met their neighbors at the fence
and were invited inside
when times were hard
and harder still.

No money exchanged hands.
My neighbor was my therapist,
my minister and in some ways;
my mother as I fought my way back from
death.

I wonder how her son is doing. He would have
children; perhaps, grandchild now??

Her twin daughters kept me breathing many days.

How much insight she had. Calling me over to watch
the babies sleep and even though my arms were
empty; it helped; it eased; a bit.

How valuable a gift!