The Little Things

The Little Things

Small talk about the good ol' days is what brought up memories for them. The smell of fresh homemade cookies, the odd faces her neighbors kids would make towards her or the unforgettable memories made with her husband filled the room. You could tell she had been through a lot, but there wasn't a single instant where the creases around her mouth had shown. As I sat there, listening to my mom and Evelynn talk I had realized that I was being thrown my first life line.

Evelynn and Ron lived a couple houses down from us. They were an elderly couple with two kids, maybe three, I couldn't remember. My family had never really talked to them before, but I would occasionally see Ron and his at-home nurse going for walks. I noticed the Band-Aid on his arm covering where a needle used to be. He looked fragile, like one quick move over a bump in his wheelchair would cause him to break. He sat in his wheelchair the whole walk occasionally adding input to the conversation the nurse and I were having. That was the first and only day I had walked with Ron. It would also turn out to be the last. When I found out Ron passed shortly after I couldn't imagine how Evelynn was dealing with the loss of her husband. Around this time my mom befriended Evelynn shortly after Ron had passed, and when she found out that I was the one who had walked with her husband she wanted to meet me. I never would have imagined that just simply asking to join a neighbor on a walk could have the power to develop a friendship that changed my perspective on how much the little things can change a person's life.

Sitting in the living room with my mom and Evelynn was a bit nerve racking at first. I didn't know what to say or even how to say anything. She was a 93 year old woman, white-ish gray-ish hair with a petite figure. She was maybe a couple inches taller than me and acted nothing like her age. Her house had that appearance of an older house you would see on those old cowboy television shows my dad likes to watch. The floral couch and antique t.v. stand were like ones you wouldn't normally see at typical furniture stores. She had this old highchair in the corner of her dining room with the shiny metal legs and small wooden table. I was so fascinated by the objects that filled her house that I was completely caught off guard when she asked me a question.

Evelynn asked me why it was that I had walked with her husband, Ron. She had this look of confusion on her face as she waited for my answer. I told her that I had just wanted to walk with him, to have a conversation with him and make him smile. The look of confusion instantly turned into a look of gratitude, delay almost. Evelynn told me that since Ron started having medical problems he had rarely smiled, barely got out of bed or even had normal conversations like he used to until that day. The man I had walked with was far