My neighbor, Helen, was 78 and had lived alone for years.
She was quiet, kind, and usually spent her afternoons tending flowers in her backyard.
Then a young man started showing up several times a week.
At first, I assumed he was a grandson or caregiver.
But after a few visits, I started hearing loud shouting through the wall.
Sometimes Helen shouted back.
I became increasingly worried.
One afternoon, after hearing another burst of yelling, I finally walked over and knocked on her door.
The house immediately went silent.
A few seconds later, Helen opened the door.
She was wearing boxing gloves.
I just stared at her.
Then the young man appeared behind her holding padded training mitts.
Helen burst out laughing.
He was her grandson.
After a recent fall, her doctor had encouraged her to exercise more and rebuild her balance and strength.
Normal workouts bored her, so her grandson had started teaching her light boxing exercises.
All the shouting I had heard was him encouraging her while she practiced.
Helen smiled and said, “I knew somebody would eventually think he was trying to hurt me.”
I apologized for interfering.
She shook her head.
“Never apologize for checking on someone.”
Then she handed me one of the gloves.
“Since you’re already here,” she said, “you might as well join us.”
That became the beginning of our weekly workout routine.
