I had a very moving experience one evening. I saw a homeless woman, pushing a grocery cart down the road loaded to the top with black garbage bags and various other things -- shoes, some kind of rolled up material, books -- hanging, tied here and there. I passed her on my way to my mom's.

Momma and I went out to dinner and I drove my mother home an hour and a half later and there was the same woman, pushing with all her strength as she kept walking, walking.. I left my mom at her house, hit the road again and there was the homeless lady. I couldn't bear it.

She had paused to rest. I stopped my car and asked if I could help her in any way, give her a ride, call someone. Bottom line: she said she was from Bulgaria. Her name, she told me, was Iksa. She was 64. She seemed surprised and happy I spoke to her. Maybe she is mentally ill, I thought for a minute, but probably no crazier than most people, including me.

She apologized repeatedly for her "broken English".I told her it was fine, far better than my French and Spanish. She said she had a place to go, a place where she heard she could spend the night at a shelter. She would not let me take her (not that I could have crammed all her stuff into my tiny car but I would have tried) and she "wanted to walk". She said she had been on the streets of Atlanta so long she had "maps in her head". She told me where she was walking to. It was about a five hour walk, she figured.

(painting by David Hockney)

I saw in this grizzled, frizzy gray haired woman hints of someone who was once probably a great beauty with high cheekbones and eyes the color of the sea. She said walking was good for her health. We shared names. She proudly showed me her temporary visa, but she has no more work. She said she will find some, somehow.

I asked her again if I could help her in any way. She smiled and with such radiance said, "You have already helped me, Sherry! You helped me by stopping and talking to me. You helped me by being kind to me. Oh, you have helped me so!"

"Look for me on the streets. I will remember your red car and your name and I will say 'Hello Sherry!' and maybe you can say 'Hello , Iska.. it means, in English, like 'spark' .. "

We talked for maybe 7 or 8 minutes. I left her there, refusing any help, smiling at me and thanking me over and over for simply stopping to talk. I left crying, not letting her see.

All I knew was she was a human being, kind and lost, somewhere in this city, still pushing that cart and hoping, believing she would find a bed and work.. The rains came suddenly, hard tonight. I thought about her many times.