Graying America

My fall semester kicked off today with my first class being one I have been looking forward to: The course is a psychology class, which focuses on adult development and the aging process. During the professor's introduction, I learned that not only will I have to attend class twice a week (truly a non-issue, I have not missed a class since I began my college career), however I also need to commit about an hour each week to an elderly person or persons. This causes me discomfort, and not because I am afraid of elderly people, as some of my classmates confessed. I am afraid I do not have the time to commit. My schedule is hectic this session, and I barely have an hour a day to shower and primp, let alone spend with a stranger.

After class I went to the grocery store to buy some cheese for the burgers we would be having this evening. The deli lady, I swear, is someone I know, yet each time I see her, we have nothing more than a professional grocer interaction. I can not place who she is or where she is from. I was starving, and seriously contemplating eating the cheese I had just ordered in the car on the way home and then tell my hubby I forgot to buy some. Then I thought of the calories, so I popped a piece of gum in and told my belly to hold off the bitchfest until I got home and could get a healthy, dairy-free lunch.

During the day, there are not many registers open at the grocery store, and much to my belly and my own dismay, the one that was for 14 items or less had three seniors standing in it, each with a basket full of what I expected to be more than 14 items. I saw the fourth and final senior making her way to the line, and I snuck in, attempting to beat her to the position. She saw me. I felt embarrassed, so I let her go ahead. Then she insisted I go, as I only had my cheese. I suddenly felt cheesier then, well, you know, the cheese. Then the lady in front of me insisted I go ahead, and the final lady who already had her items on the conveyor belt (which, by the way, only invites more than 14 items), insisted I get in front of her. I felt so relieved, and really fortunate for these happy seniors, who were more than willing to let a sneaky youngster get in front of them. If only they had known what I had been thinking just seconds before, regarding their inability to count correctly.

I walked out to my car, a big smile on my face. I mean, a big, shit-eating grin. Getting into my car, I realized this was no chance occurrence. These elderly women made time for me, sacrificed their spot in line. The least I can do is spare them an hour a week. I feel as if the Universe was showing me that not all of them are mean and angry, and that maybe the small gesture of spending time with them once a week would mean the world to them.