A Little Old Lady

As I watched my mother walk towards her gate at the airport this morning, I saw this sweet little old lady who has become redundant in a technologically savy world. Who doesn't like living away from her children. Who doesn't like to cook anymore. Whose eyes are dimming. A little old lady who falls asleep in movies. Who is up with the sun reading her scriptures and making her devotions to God. A little old lady who loves to clean and organise and tidy. Who can add and subtract many numbers in her head. Who folds her grocery bags and neatly puts them away in a drawer. A little old lady whose purse is full of pictures of people who matter to her. I saw a little old lady who seemed so frail and vulnerable and alone. Whose spine is curving and distorting her out of human shape. She wore the heavy burden of her anxiety - not knowing where to go, not being sure her luggage would be at her destination, not knowing the airport for her connecting flight. I wanted to take her hand and lead her along just as she must have taken mine so long ago. I turned when I could not longer see her and headed toward my car. How lucky I have been to have had this little old lady in my home for the last month. How lucky I am that she is my mother.