The old lady

She entered the building; shoulders bent, breathing heavily, a supermarket bag in each hand. She kept the bags by the staircase and stopped to get her breath back. I asked her if I could help her with the bags. She smiled at me and accepted. I asked her where she lived. "The fourth floor" she said. "The fourth floor" I gasped!! "How do you manage that at your age?" "I don't have a choice" she replied, "so I take a few steps at a time". "Why don't you shop for a lot at one go so that they deliver the bags at your doorstep". She gave me a look that said I was very being naïve. "I can't spend that much at one go" she explained, "and my appetite is not that strong either, so the food will go bad".

As I took the bags upstairs and heard her, huffing and puffing slowly up the staircase, I couldn't help but pity old age. How does one accept to live with so many constraints when one has spent more than 40 years full of vigour and speed? How does one accept to be alone when one has spent an entire lifetime being there for family and friends? How does one accept that the countdown has begun?