As I was walking the dogs this morning early, attempting to avoid the heat, I stopped to talk to my neighbor up the street. First we chatted about the eathquake this morning, then the heat, then I asked about her hip (she's had it replaced) and then her Parkinson's. She said it has worsened and I asked if she was still doing exercise classes for people with the disease. Two neighbors approached and I introduced her to them and we discussed the earthquake, heat and fires all over again.
After I went on my way, I examined the fact that I'd mentioned about her Parkinson's, and concluded it was the right thing to do. She seemed comfortable discussing it and instinctually I felt it was worse not saying anything; kind of like the elephant in the room. She strikes me as an indomitable woman, who has weathered her husband's death and other sufferings, and she appears strong and blessed with a relaxed good nature.
I don't usually offer to help, and I didn't today, but I've offered previously, so she knows I'm willing. She's a kind of silent hero of mine.
But mostly, we talked about her peonies, which I told her gave me so much pleasure when they were blooming, and how I'd tried twice to grow them in my yard without success. I explained that just along the driveway at our house in Colorado, there were many bushes of peonies. I miss them, I told her. There is so much beauty to found if we look carefully.
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