Edna is a good friend of mine.
One day, she went to the women’s prison and asked the warden, “Who are the women that have no visitors?” The warden gave her a list of twenty inmates. Edna started meeting them, one by one, talking to them, most of the time listening, laughing at their stories, crying at their heartaches. Later on, when she learned that one needed laundry soap, that would be her token gift on her next visit. Sometimes it would be a toothbrush. A pair of slippers. A little cheese cake. But her most expensive gift was still her presence. She would go there regularly, as a friend.