I’m waiting in the car while my husband goes into the eye clinic to pay a bill. An elderly couple comes out, the woman walking ahead of her husband who is leaning on a cane. She looks worried and he is taking careful steps.
I think of the word, “elderly.” It used to apply to my parents’ generation. Now I’m at the front of the line, wondering where the time went, wondering why I’m not better prepared. Because I’m learning how much effort it takes, not only to keep functioning but to keep a measure of dignity, a portion of happiness.
I watch the couple trying to navigate the uneven sidewalk and I feel a surge of pity. But just then the woman slows down to wait for her husband and puts her arm through his. They smile and talk together and I see how handsome he must have been. No, how handsome he is. And his wife, still a pretty woman!
My pity dissolves into pleasure. They have turned my assumptions upside down and I am grateful. What I thought I saw was only part of the picture, part of a bigger picture that contains a whole life, including the uneven path.
A life worth having, regardless.
