I was at the grocery store, picking up a few things, moving from the back of the store to the front because I'm compulsively organized. The last item I needed before heading for the checkout was a loaf of bread and I headed to the ice cream and bread products aisle. Once there, I positioned myself parallel to the shelf, reaching out over the left armrest on my wheelchair and trying to get a solid grip on a loaf of bread so I could get it off the shelf. It wasn't going well - it was just a couple of centimeters too far, I could touch the package, but getting it from the shelf to my lap was a no go.
I sat there for a while, struggling with a loaf of bread - that's not a sentence you write every day - and several able-bodied people went by without offering to help. Feeling more and more invisible, I also felt more and more frustrated. And then this rather elderly man who clearly had some significant health issues came tottering up, took the loaf of bread and handed it to me. He smiled and said "we have to help each other out."
It was a small moment of grace, almost cinematic in how our surroundings became hushed and fuzzy, this moment between two people all that existed. Two invisible people banding together.