In the hottest part of July, while driving back to work from lunch, I drove past an old woman, at least 70 years old, pushing another old woman, at least 90 years old, in a very old wheelchair. The woman in the wheelchair, likely the mother of the woman pushing her, was slumped down in her chair, looking like she was melting in the heat of the sun. Her daughter was struggling to keep the chair moving. Both were wearing heavier clothing than was necessary in the summer, solely to ward off as much of the sun as possible. They were traveling very slowly along one of the busiest streets in town.

I could tell where they were going -- the grocery store three blocks away -- but I couldn't tell how far they had already come. I expect they continued to the store unaided, returned to their home unaided, and had nothing to show for their journey but sunburns, aching muscles, weariness to their bones, and whatever meager food they could afford. I expect they made the trip at least once every week or two.

I didn't stop, and I wish I had.