Her small, frail hand trembles as it reaches for the frames of her glasses. Her hands are creased with veins and years of wrinkles. Colors of all sorts line each finger leading to a similar conditioned arm. Gently, she places her glasses upon her aged cheeks. Lines developed from laughter, worry, and determination detail the very trim of her face. Her hair, short and wiped pure of color into a beautiful snow-white crown. She reaches for the mail she anticipates for every afternoon. Passing the monthly deals at the local grocery store, on to the bills to be paid, and ending with nothing more than the table-cloth. One more time, she flips through the mail. Her heart sinks heavy as she removes her glasses. Another day without a letter. She picks up her cup of coffee and let's the lukewarm liquid fill her mouth. A taste so mundane that it brings back the reality of her own solitude.

His hand tightly grasps the nozzle to the garden hose as he walks along the flower bed. With deep concentration, he rewards each flower their allocated water for the day. Once finished, he gathers the garden hose and peers over the yard. Under the old oak is where he taught his son to throw a baseball. And on the front porch is where he and his wife would wave goodbye as their child boards the bus to school. A yard full of memories so bittersweet they don't linger far. With brisk shuffles, he makes his way inside. Removing his hat and wiping his brow, he peers toward the answering machine. With a hopeful heart, he makes his way to the machine. Pulling up the stool from the kitchen table, he sits and places his hat on his knee. He presses the message button with his dry overworked hands. With a loud beep, an audio recording fills the room, “I am sorry, there are no new messages in your inbox.” His eyes sink down as he drums his fingers across the table. Releasing a deep breath, he looks to his wife who was holding his very own cup of lukewarm coffee.

Life has a tendency to be fast and jammed packed from day break to the crack of night. We are programmed for speed and productivity. As we grow, we are nurtured; not only by our parents, but by important figures in our life. These could vary from aunts to neighbors, teachers to cousins. Our lives are impacted by those who care for us as we age. However, in the midst of making our lives, we tend to forget those who helped us. They were once the center of our worlds and we leave them to be the edge of our dreams. Whether they are placed in a designated caring facility, or back home where they have been their whole life, it is important to keep them in the loop. Take time out of your day and call somebody you know would love to hear from you. A simple five minutes could make another's week. Give them a call, you won't regret it.