What have I done?

What have I done with my life? With my last 10 years? I have no Oscar, no Nobel Prize. God, I haven’t even published a novel. Where are my accolades? I have no house, no glittering C.V., no precocious child. Where is my sequinned dress, my sun-kissed yacht, my ever-present adoring fans? Why am I not more accomplished? How have I wasted my time?

What have you done?

You had coffee with me, and you meant it when you asked, “How are you?” You showed me a free yoga video. You gave me a hand. You told me a funny story from 15 years ago.

You don’t know it, but your inconsequential moment made my life.

What I have not done is immaterial. What I do is try to be here with you. The star doesn’t know it is shining, or that it is gone, and an arrow never thanks the bow. Our ripples go beyond our sight. And that novel? Perhaps, one day, I might.