I wonder if she’s warm enough. I wonder if she’s happy.

I drive off the exit on a cold afternoon.

My car is warm and now I realize how quiet it is.

I’ve been driving in silence… mindless silence.

That’s strange, I think. Usually there’s a podcast, an audiobook, a song. Something.

But right now it’s just my thoughts.

I see a figure on the patch of grass between the onramps and offramps picking through bits and bobs between the blades. She’s picking up bottles and cans. She appears to be an older woman.

And I just want to stop. I want to give her every bottle and can I have. I want to give her the contents of my wallet in cash. I want to put her in my warm car and tell her that she’s a valuable human being. I want to stop as much as I don’t want to stop because how weird would that be to stop on the road and presume to give to someone I don’t know.

And then I think that maybe she’s happy. Maybe it’s condescending for me to feel pity for someone I don’t know. Who am I in my warm Honda (in the last year of its lease) to project my values, my privilege, my pity onto someone with such quiet dignity through the safety glass of my warm Honda (in the final year of its lease)?

And I want to take away the pain of everyone who feels it. But I drive a warm Honda (in the final year of its lease), and I have a smartphone. I’ll never be able to give to everyone who needs and how could I justify what I keep for myself when someone is picking through that patch of grass outside of my warm Honda (in the final year of its lease)?

Am I presumptuous? Am I a hypocrite? Do I want to feel good about myself without sacrificing my creature comforts? It’s not like I have billions and choose to buy rockets and social networks while crosses burn…

The light changes to green. Like the grass was a month ago when it was warmer. Green like a Mountain Dew bottle the lady is picking up.

I wonder if she’s warm enough. I wonder if she’s happy.

I just hope that she’s not lonely.