I took the Western bus up to Peterson this morning so I could walk to get my monthly prescription refill at Target, and there was a very old man who climbed aboard at Berwyn. He couldn’t hear or talk, and he could barely see — in fact, he kept swatting at things that weren’t there — and it was very, very sad. I am utterly grateful today have people in my life who can — and, most likely, will — take care of me when I am unable to take care of myself. This hasn’t always been the case, and I have spent large portions of my life acutely aware that if I needed to get to the hospital, there would be no one to take me. (In fact, there are many more times I have taken a cab or a bus to the ER — alone — than times I have been driven there.) I used to see elderly folks — such as the man this morning — and flash ahead to myself as an old woman, alone, riding a bus, unable to walk or talk or perhaps even see anything other than glittering pieces of dust and debris that catch my eyes at an odd angle. But it’s funny — no, actually, it’s quite serious — how lives can change in an instant, and now when I look ahead to my 80s and 90s (if I am lucky enough to live so long), I see lush landscapes dotted with friends and loved ones: I don’t know where, or when, but I know I will be taken care of my those I love and who love me. Today, I am grateful to no longer have a car, or else this would have been one more day that went by during which I didn’t realize just exactly how blessed I am. Namaste.