I watched him care for his wife until she passed away. He was very quiet, not prone to conversation, but always had a shy smile and comfortable way about him. I didn’t see him much after she died, except when he would head out of his driveway on his 10-speed bike for one of his long Sunday morning rides.
Several years passed and I watched as my neighbor painted his porch, washed his truck and cut the oleander in his yard. It was a solitary life compared to mine, which was filled with the demands and joys of my growing family, work and friends.
Then one day I looked out the window and saw him laughing as he hoisted a young boy on his shoulders. Even from a distance, I could see the light in his eyes.