Today's snapshot

I went into work today for a gentleman I have known for almost ten years now.  I cared for his wife until she passed away last year, and this year he is a little in need of help himself at 89, so I go in one day a week to do whatever he sees fit to be done.  He spent over sixty years of being an optometrist, completely involved with the intimacies of the eye, the miracle, the science--but in the yard today I saw his artist coming out, designing perfect shapes and rhythms in his front lawn with some mulch and long strips of metal.  It really was quite lovely and affecting.
   As I was reflecting upon our time together on my 40 minute drive back home, I realized he paid me a compliment without probably even meaning to and I hadn't realized it in full at the moment it was happening.  His yard has a gradual slope to it and he has a hard time standing on the uneven ground.  He had walked up to where I was working to look at something, but then asked me for my hand to help him get back to even ground.  I stood up, held out my hand, he put his hand in mine and he gave me his weight.  He gave me his weight.  It wasn't filtered, almost weight, it was his real weight.  I remembered feeling the pressure and noting that he did need me.  And we walked back down the slope together.
  What I loved about any of this was that he trusted me with himself, with his balance, with his steadiness, and looking at us it wouldn't necessarily make sense.  He has often said that at my height and size I do not look as strong as I am.  He is a thin, 6 foot tall man.  I am glad that after all these years of working together, to care for his wife, care for their life, and care for one another, what he knows about me is found in how he trusts me.  It is wonderfully mutual and pretty incredible and I don't take it, not even for a second, for granted.