Young at Heart

  My neighbor, Erma, is 90 years young. She's one of those stubborn old gals who, by golly, will do things for herself if there is any way possible. But, she is, after all, 90.
  She still lives by herself, and a few years ago, while trying to get her mail in the wintertime, she took a tumble and broke a bone.  From that point on, I was asked to get her newspaper and mail during the winter, which I gladly did.  After a while, the job became a year round one.
  Sometimes, I just leave her mail and ring the doorbell.  Other times, I will go in for a visit.  It was during one of those visits, recently, that I mentioned we had bought a sled for our grandson's birthday, but it still needed a rope.  She said, "Now wait a minute, I have some here in my drawer."  What she produced was not, in my opinion, heavy enough to pull a sled, even for such a little guy as my grandson. But, I smiled and thanked her as I accepted the rope.  She was obviously pleased.
   Once again, it was a reminder that, as we age, we become much like little children.  It was reminiscent of the smile of a little one who has just offered a handful of  dandelions to his mother.  And, just like the mother who joyfully accepts the offering of the flowers, bringing sunshine to the heart of her beloved child, we, too, can bring delight to the elderly by receiving their heartfelt albeit sometimes misguided giving.


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