We met her at a roadside shop in Crete in 2015. Slowly she picked the seeds out of the pomegranate and put them in a worn white porcelain bowl. Her grandchild, perhaps six years old, waited by her knee. When she had a good amount she offered us some, and then gave the rest to the little girl. We didn’t speak Greek and she didn’t speak English, but we did our best to say thank you with our hands and our smiles. I’m pretty sure she understood. It was the first time I thought that growing old and growing slow might not be such a bad thing after all.
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