It turns out that I am no different than many Americans.
Perhaps it’s because connecting with the elderly brings not only their aging and mortality into focus, but mine.
Perhaps it’s because I am afraid that, if I start talking to an older person, in her loneliness, she won’t stop.
This is a very tight, very crowded parking lot on a Saturday morning. And if you find yourself driving through, looking for a parking space, only to find none, and so you need to get back out again, good luck. There is no back entrance, and it seems impossible to turn around, especially when the lot starts filling with other cars in the same fix.
I thought he might cry, and then, suddenly I felt the same.