We passed each other while walking in a nearby town.

Not once or twice. But nearly every day.

We’d smile. Or maybe give a thumbs up greeting.

He looked to be around my age.

Dark, weathered skin and white beard, he appeared to be Mexican, I thought. Or maybe South American.

I figured he was someone who’d worked hard his entire life. I respect people like that.

So one day I stopped him as we passed.

“Are you from this town,” I asked.

“No hablo ingles,” he answered.

Oh, OK. I don’t speak Spanish. So our would-be conversation ended abruptly.

Next time we met, I stopped and typed my age, 68, on my cellphone screen and showed it to him.

“Ah,” he said. He responded by kneeling down at the sidewalk, and, using his finger, drew the number 65.

I knew it. We shared a bond. Life as a senior. Retirement. Medicare. New daily patterns of living.

I showed him my first name on my cell. But it drew a blank stare. I thought, perhaps, he had a vision impairment.

In any case, both of us realized we had much in common. But no way to talk about it.

Instead of giving up, he motioned for me to walk beside him. To continue together. And that’s how it started.

We became regular walking buddies. Every day. Two older guys spending time together but unable to chat.

One day I motioned toward a restaurant. He followed me inside where we sat and enjoyed coffee.

Then another day, as we walked, he did something unexpected.

“Casa, casa,” he said. He motioned for me to follow.

Somehow, I knew what he was doing.

He led me to a wood-frame, row house with a small front porch. He fumbled with a key and then unlocked the door, inviting me inside.

The gesture impressed me.

He apparently felt comfortable. He knew I was a friend. He trusted me. So he wanted to show me where he lives.

Of course, I trusted him, too.

“Cocina,” he said, leading me through a living room and into a kitchen.

Pots on the stove. I could see he’d earlier prepared some kind of rice dish for himself.

I smiled and nodded. I made gestures to show I was impressed by his cooking skill.

Then we left.

To my surprise, he led me one block away to a different row house.

Once again, he took me inside.

There, a young man and woman, both Hispanic, were seated in the living room and appeared surprised.

“Amigo! Amigo!” he assured them.

I looked at them and smiled, saying the only Spanish words I knew: “Si, amigo!”

“Oh goodness, thank heavens,” said the woman in perfect English.

“When we saw you coming we thought something bad had happened. I’m his daughter.”

Turns out, she is fluent in both languages.

She invited me to sit and talk. Over the next two hours, with her as our interpreter, Salome and I finally learned about each other.

Yes, all along we were friends. We both felt it. But yet, still strangers. Until now.

He’s a retired laborer. An auto and construction worker who never learned to read or write.

He owns a house in his homeland, the Dominican Republic, where he’ll return shortly after his summer visit to the U.S.

He told me, through his daughter, that he wants to take me back with him to his home. He wants me to see the Greater Antilles.

There, I could spend a warm winter at his house in the tropics, he said, and avoid snow and ice.

His sincere offer moved me deeply.

His willingness to be so generous was remarkable. I was touched by how he expressed devoted friendship and led me to his family.

I invited him to visit me. And he did. He’s been to my house. In my living room, electronic device Alexa serves as a translator, a blessing in helping us to talk.

To further break the language barrier, I’m taking an online course in conversational Spanish.

I’m also relying on the Google Translate app on my cell.

He and I are slowly getting to know each other until he returns home.

In the meantime, he’s teaching me key Spanish words as we walk.

“Iglesia,” he says, pointing to a church.

I reciprocate, saying the word in English, to help him, as well.

In a broader sense, both of us are immersed in a precious retirement lesson.

Two men from different worlds can make walls crumble.

Any two people can make it happen.

No matter the obstacle, any two people can become friends.

All it takes is mutual respect, two open minds, and hearts willing to trust.

dserfass@tnonline.com