In my attempt to juggle a career with motherhood (both with only moderate success), I find little time to ponder the future.

No, I’m not referring to my career path in 10 years or my 401(k) plan in 20 years. I’m thinking about what my life will really be like in 30 or 40 years, should fate have longevity in store for me.

Thoughts about my fate were prompted by a chance encounter with a very special woman in her late 80s. On a frigid February morning, while driving to work in blizzard-like conditions, I saw an elderly woman crossing a busy intersection. She reminded me of the classic “old lady” in children’s fairy tales. Hunched over a cane and in deep concentration over her next step in the snow, she shuffled forward with tremendous determination toward her destination.

Bewildered by what would prompt her to take on this adventure on this particular day, I stopped mid-traffic to ask if she wanted a ride. With some hesitation, she agreed.

“Where can I take you?” I asked.

“Honey, I’m going to church, and I’m late,” she replied, urging me to battle the snow with as much zeal as she had and drive faster.

I realized that her destination was still three blocks from where I found her and marveled at her ambitious drive to get to church and defy the storm.

“Does someone usually take you in the winter?” I prodded, hoping this wasn’t a daily ritual for her.

“No, honey, I live alone and walk every day by myself,” she responded with great pride. We arrived at her destination, and then went our separate ways.

Being on the same time schedule, we met again two days later as I found her walking in equally unfavorable conditions. Over time and despite the passing of winter, our chance encounters turned into a tradition that starts and ends in the same manner, with our arrival at her destination. Each time we talk, however, I get to know more about her. Each time she gets in my car, I learn something new from her.

This new friendship has left me wondering about what my life will be like in my later years. Perhaps my career path and financial well-being will seem less important – maybe even trivial.

Thinking about all the years I spent seeking a higher education, I now realize they focused only on acquiring the more immediate path to success – the kind that takes you only as far as a successful career. Not to knock the perks of a great education, but perhaps some reflection is due on those later years, for which little preparation is done and for which few answers are found in a textbook.

Despite the daily flurry of activity in my life, I now occasionally make the time to think about how those later years will be spent: the people who will be around me, the thoughts that will guide me, the activities that will occupy me. All I can say is that, if and when I get there, I hope I am just as determined, just as able and just as self-reliant as my friend in the snow.

Mashal Husain is the director of development at the World Food Prize Foundation.