When the traffic light changed to red for the third time, I was already late to pick up my niece from daycare. I was tapping my steering wheel and tried not to loose it while two cars behind the front.

Then I realized why it had all stopped.

An old woman with a cane was being walked slowly by a police officer who had entered the crosswalk, flat hand up, halting on both sides. She wore this huge brown coat and held a tote bag as if it were a hundred pounds to her chest.

It seemed as though she had to negotiate every step as she proceeded with such care. She was not hurried by the police. He kept up with her, even grinning at her when she stopped in the middle. Even though it was such a minor thing, it made me feel something.

Indeed, I may have shed a tear or two.

That isn’t the whole tale, though.

Because the woman raised her hand slightly, as if waving to someone, and looked directly at my car as she stepped onto the curb. I didn’t return the wave. I was unable to. My heart just fell.

That face was familiar to me. She was someone I knew.

I was confused by the coat, but inside that hood, it was she.

It had been twelve years since the court day when I had last seen her. Not since the day she said, “Tell your brother I forgive him,” after turning around.

Maribel was her name. My brother struck her with his vehicle.

The night was wet. He was driving home from a party at the age of nineteen. Too late to swerve. It wasn’t until she was on the hood that he noticed her crossing. Maribel had a ruptured lung and two shattered legs. Mateo, my brother, never really recovered from his drinking issue and ended up with a record.

She had the option to file a lawsuit. She didn’t.

She might have detested him. She didn’t.

She requested the judge to be lenient despite using a walker and limping into the courtroom. told everyone that the only way she could get better was to forgive.

Mateo sobbed more intensely than I had ever witnessed.

After that, life simply went on. He relocated to a different state. Like a chapter you don’t want to read again, she vanished from our lives.

Right up till now.

I just sat there with my hazards on and my heart pounding after pulling into a nearby gas station lot. I was completely oblivious as I watched her shuffle down the sidewalk from the rearview mirror.

I’m not sure what possessed me, but I yelled out her name. “Maribel?”

Slowly, she turned. regarded me with the same gentle gaze I had seen in the courtroom. “Yes?”

With trembling hands, I took a step forward. “My name is Sol. Mateo’s sister.

She hesitated for a moment. Her eyes then became softer. “You were there, Sol. You grasped his jacket.

I gave a nod. I could hardly talk because my throat was so constricted.

She grinned softly, as if we had known each other for ages. “How is he doing?”

I paused. He’s making an effort. He is now sober. Construction is underway in Tucson. doesn’t discuss the past much, but I’m sure he keeps you in mind.

As if she knew that already, she nodded. She then said something that caught me off guard.

“I also give him some thought. about you two. You two kind of stayed with me because I didn’t have any children.

I was at a loss for words. I volunteered to walk her to her destination. As it happened, she was on her way to the nearby pharmacy.

I led her there by foot.

She chatted about her knees, her late husband who died two years ago, and her cat the entire time. Despite the fact that she was obviously doing everything by herself, she assured me she was OK.

She stated to us when we arrived, “You know… Mateo never got to hear this bit from me. I was alone in the hospital following the accident. Remember the letter he wrote me?

I gave a nod. I had assisted him in writing it. He couldn’t stop crying, so he rewrote it three times.

“Well, I read that letter every night for weeks,” she replied, gripping her tote more tightly. I felt seen because of it. As if I were still important.

I simply collapsed on the sidewalk, and I had no idea what it was. Pain had been transformed into kindness by this woman, who had every reason to be resentful. into recovery.

“You tell him I’m still proud of him,” she added, holding my hand as I walked away.

I said I would.

I arrived late to pick up my niece. My sister raised her eyebrows at me as if I were going crazy, and I had to explain everything to her. Perhaps I was. but in the most advantageous manner.

Mateo was silent for a long time after I contacted him that evening and informed him who I had seen. “She remembered me?” he whispered.

I told him everything. And I heard him cry for the first time in years, but it was from something lighter than remorse. Something restorative.

What I discovered that day is that forgiveness has great power. Additionally, some people bear your grief to assist you cope with it more effectively rather than to punish you.

Please share this tale if it holds any significance for you. You never know who might benefit from a reminder that there is still grace in the world.

If you think second chances are possible, please like and share.