I was walking home with shopping bags and groceries in tow, muttering and half complaining to myself about how I shouldn’t have sold my car so soon when I noticed a little old lady in front of me. She was walking slowly and struggling to carry her groceries. As I leveled my pace with her, I asked if she was alright. She simply smiled and stretched out her shopping bag to me.

Immediately, I smiled back, shifted my own bags to one arm, and grabbed hers with my spare hand. Without either of us speaking, she reached out and hooked both her frail hands around my arm, quickening her small steps. My heart melted a little and I asked where she lived. She didn’t speak much English but when she gave her address, I did a double take and said, ‘Huh?’ She practically lived opposite me. How did I not know her or recognise her?

We walked and talked all the way to her house. She spoke of her youth, how she lived under Communism in Vietnam, how the world has changed since then, her family, and her love for her grandchildren. All the while I kept thinking of how many years I’ve lived at my address and she at hers, yet we’ve never met before today. It was sad but so telling of the attitude we’ve sadly adopted – where neighbours are strangers and nobody makes much effort to enquire of each other. I was dead guilty and felt so ashamed!

As I left her at her home, I told myself to be more open. To ask more and be present more. To be less reserved and less strange towards people I literally share roads and paths with. And of course, I told myself to walk home more…