I drove my neighbor to a doctor's appointment yesterday because the roads have been icy and her hip is bad. I worry about what might happen if she got into trouble alone on a back road.

Just like every time I see her, I felt drowned by an avalanche of words, a tsunami of stories.

I try not to mind, becaue I know I'm often the only person she sees for weeks at a time. She's 10 years older than me, her husband died unexpectedly 25 years ago, and they never had children.

She seems ... unmoored ... by lack of connection. Like, since she doesn't have anybody to do for, she doesn't know what to do for herself.

She used to be a tall, beautiful horse woman who trained and rode champions. Now she's an elderly lady who can't walk let alone ride — and who has nobody to talk to.

I get it. I've lost my looks too, and I'm not so far behind her in age.

I asked myself last night, as a matter of fact, if all my storytelling on Medium is the equivalent of her word avalanches.

In some ways, yes, I'm sure that is true.