While we certainly don't know her intimately we feel we know her well. Like someone you've known for many years on a very casual basis but with whom you have formed a friendly, inquisitive and caring relationship. She has worked for the Salvation Army Thrift Shop for thirty years. In locations other than the one in which we've become accustomed to seeing her.

We drop by fairly often, as often as once a month. Either to drop off things that we no longer need, or to look about to see what's on offer that we would ourselves like to acquire. It's a great source for second-hand books of all varieties, and we've found quite a lot of truly excellent books there over the years. And over the years she has always been there.

When we first met her she was of course quite a bit younger. I admired her panache, her shining cap of auburn hair, cut just perfectly to frame her face, a very open and friendly face. She always greeted our little dogs before she would greet us, smiling at us while she ministered affectionately to our little pals, always ensconced in a carry-bag placed on the infant seat of one of their shopping carts. They grew to know her, too.

She loved animals and it was a sore point with her that the apartment in which she lived would not permit pet ownership. On the other hand, she knew the heartache of losing a beloved pet, so she also felt conflicted about acquiring another animal companion. So she did the next-best thing, bestowing affection on other peoples' pets. Her daughter's among them, the owner of a chihuahua. She and her daughter occasionally went on trips together, a few times to Florida, and she loved it.

When we dropped by there yesterday I was surprised that the cap of blazing red had been replaced by black. After all those years. The colour alteration doesn't change anything about her, though, she still looks good wearing it. Better that, I suppose, than the natural steel-grey I imagine to lurk under those raven tresses. I'd stopped decades earlier colouring my hair when our youngest son, not yet thirty at the time asked why I bothered. And I thought to myself then, why do I?

She's gathering time to reach her approaching 60th birthday. Grimacing, as she stated it. And she said, she's tired. She's planning to retire. She'll apply to have residence in a senior's home. She'll join some seniors' activities. A walking club among them. She doesn't quite know whether to look forward to all of that, but she reiterates that she doesn't have the willingness to continue working. Simply put, she's tired. Whether of the work itself or simply of the idea of working, she didn't clarify.

When she does leave, we assured her, we'll be among many who will miss her presence.