I often talk about how a good narrative relies on complications which are often the results of choices the main character makes. As many of you know, Cathy and I find ourselves in the middle of a story we didn’t choose. Her cancer treatment is being compromised by frequent flares of diverticulitis. It happened again yesterday, and she’s hospitalized once more. We’re waiting for her team to put their heads together and come up with a plan that will work for her. We’re afraid she’s going to have surgery for the diverticulitis before finishing her chemotherapy and having cancer surgery. We’re disappointed by the news of this potential delay in treatment, but, as we’ve done all along, we’ll push our way through whatever we have to face.

So much for the unhappy news. I want to tell you about something that happened on Friday. While we were waiting to be called back for Cathy’s chemo infusion, she struck up a conversation with another cancer patient who was almost at the end of her treatment. They talked about bone pain, hair loss, etc. When the nurse called another woman’s name, that woman stopped to address Cathy and her new friend. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” the woman said. “This is my first chemo.” Her voice was shaky, and she was near tears. “I’m scared,” she said.

And with that, Cathy and her friend were both on their feet. They took turns hugging the woman. They gave her encouragement.

“Sister, you can do this,” Cathy said.

I sat there, blinking back tears of my own, privileged to witness this sisterhood. I’ve been witness to so many strong women, warriors each of them. I’ve seen them comfort and inspire one another. I remain in awe of their compassion and their strength. Three women who’d previously been strangers were strangers no longer.

If I can offer a writing prompt, let it be this. Create a moment in a piece of fiction in which a stranger plays a pivotal role in your narrative. If you’re writing creative nonfiction, recall such a moment. Write the moment when that stranger becomes, or became—to steal once again from Sherwood Anderson’s “The Untold Lie”—all alive to someone.