Visit the one nobody visits

Among the works of mercy, several do not consist in giving things, but in going: visiting the sick, the imprisoned, accompanying whoever was left alone. We are better at the other kind—a donation, a "let me know if you need anything"—because it is done from afar. Showing up costs more: it asks for time, and nothing is more yours than your time. A grandfather in a nursing home, a hospitalized friend, a neighbor who was widowed. They do not expect speeches or gifts; the miracle is that someone walks through the door. A visit says what no message can: you still exist for me. And it has an advantage: hardly anyone goes. You do not need to be special to be, in someone's week, the only new face that walked through that door.