meeting mrs amos.

a few days ago, on my way to town, i walked past an elderly lady sitting outside her front door in the sunshine. i smiled at her. she smiled back. and i continued on my way. a few hours later, on my way home, i passed her again. a few hundred metres past her home, i stopped, stood there, had a 30 second debate with myself, and walked back. as i approached her and hesitantly asked if i could talk to her and perhaps take her photo, her face beamed in an open smile.

her name is sabina amos.

she was born in 1920, and although she cannot remember the names of her many great grandchildren, with great excitement she tells me that on the 10th of june she will turn 91 years old.

holding tightly to my arm, she animatedly tells me about her five children, all who were born in the house behind her. about her husband, who died in 1971 - i never married again! she tells me with a clear sense of pride. and of her eyesight, that is slowly failing - i can only see the big letters now. it is difficult to read my hymn book.

what advice can you give me, i ask her. (is this impertinent? i wonder, and then dismiss it with the recognition that this woman has lived a wealth of lifetimes before me). she thinks deeply and laughs a little.

pray, she tells me. every morning and every evening. then you will always be guided.

i take a few photos of her in the sunlight and show them to her.

ahh, i am old, she tells me. when i was young i was very pretty.

you are beautiful, i tell her. and i mean it.

are you happy with the way your life has unfolded, i ask her, a little bashfully.

very happy, she says.

as i turn to leave, she catches hold of my arm again and smiles.

i am happy. very very happy, she says.

i smile, wave, and continue walking down the street, the sun on my face, my day a little brighter.