She touches her hands. She remarks on how different they are from her own. The generous woman lets her touch her skin. She says she is eighty-one years old. (She doesn't look it...very spry)
I am reminded of other hands and other times when I was the young girl looking at the future.
Now I am the future-middle. The woman asks her how old her mom is. She remarks I am almost half her age.
As we drive home I think how the year is moving toward spring. How April is such an important month for me (for her). How time works its way through the trees we drive past...the snow still on the ground, chill still in the air.
Age and time. My daughter and my mother. And this woman who generously spent time with my daughter today and taught me an important lesson in time.