A few weeks later, Linda moved away.
The neighborhood changed, too. We started watching each other’s deliveries, sharing alerts, and helping older residents arrange safer drop-offs.
Lily eventually received her markers, and she drew me a picture of myself holding a package while Linda ran from a police car. I framed it.
Later, I ordered another pair of blue slippers.
This time, the package arrived safely.
At 80, I’ve learned that some people mistake kindness for weakness and age for helplessness. Linda believed I wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t remember, and wouldn’t do anything.
She was wrong.
I didn’t need to argue with her or prove myself through anger. I simply gathered the evidence and let the truth speak.
And it turned out to be much harder to blame the delivery drivers when half the neighborhood’s packages were sitting behind her fence.
