Never Too Soon

I saw her on a hot summer day, one of those sidewalk-shimmering July days, more typical of Toronto than Muskoka. Her grey hair was pulled into a bun, and her blue silk dress told of a more gracious time. She stood on the curb watching the traffic, hesitant, unsure of herself.
I finished my errands and had almost forgotten her. But there she was, still standing on the sidewalk, as if the cement had set around her feet and held her to the ground.
I put aside my ‘mustn’t get involved’ thoughts.
“Do you need help?” I said.
“I’m waiting for a ride. Jean said she would pick me up and take me across to the other mall. It’s too far to walk.”
“I could take you, if you like,” I said, “I’m going there, anyway.”
I thought she might be too afraid to accept a ride from a stranger, you hear so many bad things on the news these days, but it made me feel better that I’d offered.
“Thank you, it’s very hot standing here.”
I helped her into the car and buckled her into the seat belt. The whole exercise took no more than a couple of minutes of my time. I gave her my name and address before we parted.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice crackled like radio static and a smile crinkled her face.
A few days later I got a note in the mail.
“Dear Grace, At eighty years of age you don’t expect to make new friends, but I made a new friend today. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, ‘You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.’ Thanks for not being too late, Iris.”

This story is based on an actual event. This lady was a writer and I visited her in her apartment and helped her with some writing about her life that she wanted to record for her family. A couple of years after we met, she passed away. I was glad I had got to know her.