She's heavy set, and walks with a limp. Her pace is a bit slow.
Sometimes, she's with a friend. Today she was alone.
She's always there.
The timing was such that we met exactly as I was opening the door to the Jeep. It was a brief exchange, no more then thirty seconds. It was just one of life's pleasant courtesies and then we were both on our way.
She's not from the neighborhood.
I'm most certain that she gets off a bus that's a half-mile away. Her destination is a fast food restaurant another half block beyond. That can't be an easy walk, or an easy job standing all day, and at minimum wage at that. But she's there, daily, and doesn't even seem to mind.
She's a quiet hero in a way.
She's accepted life as it happened, and she's dealing with it.