It took a few weeks of driving into the office again before I realized what was wrong.
It is a small white house on a corner lot, close to my home but not typically part of my daily routine when not commuting. Years ago when I used to drive that way on a daily basis, she could be counted on to be out there every morning between 6:00 and 6:30. Most times she would be vigorously walking up and down her driveway, clearly part of a daily exercise routine. Most evenings, she could be counted on to have a broom in hand maintaining the spotlessness of her porch, sidewalk, and driveway. She always had a smile and a wave for every passing car, and most every passing driver would return the greeting.
I never did learn her name, but then names were not an important part of the ritual.
As I said, it took a few weeks to realize what was wrong: she wasn't there anymore.
Oh, the house was still there. The yard and pavements were as spotless as ever. The house was always unlit though, whether heading out in the pre-dawn darkness or coming home at night. No signs of life or habitation were evident.
I realized I missed her, and began to hope that all was well.
A couple of months ago she was there again one morning, and more often than not has been outside in the morning or evening since as I drive past.
She smiled and waved. I returned the greeting, smiling myself.
For that brief moment at least, each day when we pass the world is a little bit better place.
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