I was in Chinatown. I had just left Pho 87. I was feeling pretty good about myself. It was dark out, no moon, and sometimes when it gets dark early in autumn, my inner-compass gets confused and lonely. But, I wasn't confused or lonely on this particular evening. I ordered Pho to go and I was walking to my car thinking I had made a wise decision.
I noticed an older Asian woman in the distance picking through a trash can. I saw her turn toward the sidewalk and trip on the curb and fall face first. She must have been eighty or so. Old. I rushed over to make sure she was okay. She was sitting on the sidewalk with a concerned look on her face. She couldn't get up. It happens when you get old, you can't get up. She just looked at me when I asked if she was okay. I realized she didn't speak a lick of English. I let her sit there for a moment before I grabbed a hold of her forearms and helped her to her feet. She thanked me by shaking her head in the affirmative.
A few weeks later I was walking in the neighborhood when I noticed an elderly Asian couple in their backyard. The man was standing over his wife who was sitting on the ground. It was evident that the woman had fallen and the man was trying to help her up. The man saw me and flagged me down. He didn't speak English either, but I knew what he was saying. I walked into his backyard where I grabbed the woman from underneath her armpits and swung her into a patio chair. She was vulnerable and could barely stand. It happens. You get old and you can barely stand. It's got to be a strange feeling,
