I usually hate old people.

Years of serving did it to me. Also my own fears of growing old and feeble and such.

But I just saw something that made me realize I may finally be getting over that hate. I got off the bus and saw an old woman slowly making her way to the bus stop. Her small, weak legs were moving so slowly, and her whole body was pitching forward, trying, trying, trying so hard to push her momentum forward at a faster pace. And to no avail. So she raised one small arm and waved it frantically...slowly and frantically, if you can try to picture those two descriptives working together somehow, in a desperate attempt to catch the attention of the bus driver.

He was at a red light, and it was turning green, but there was no way she could speed up to beat the change in traffic flow. I saw the innocent desperation in her eyes, her little attempts to use the body now falling apart all around her still sharp brain and spinal chord, and I was floored with and emotional response to the sight of this situation. I almost stopped to help her, but then I saw that she had made contact--eye contact, to be exact. And the driver was already making the bus lower for her, despite the fact that she was still going the same pace, and still pretty far away from the bus. I was glad, and kept walking.

And I was walking stiffly, quickly, briskly, even. And fighting the tears that still wanted to fall for that woman, and her plight, and the inevitable aging of us all. But then, just out of curiosity, I stopped walking. I stood still for a moment, put myself in that woman's body, and began to walk forward again, forcing my legs to be "pretend" weak and heavy, just to feel what that might be like. And it was terrifying. And embarassing. And frustrating. I felt my body leaning forward, just as her's did, in an effort to hurry up. But it was useless. The legs will be the ultimate rulers for all our lives, unfortunately for the rest of our bodies. I did this for about 2 minutes before resuming my usual hurried gait. This time, walking was such a blessing...a freeing, beautiful experience.

I teared up once more, thinking about old people and how bitter they sometimes seem. But thinking about how long I have been alive, and how epic that many years seems already, the idea that I could very well live another chunk of time just as long as this one is pretty crazy. And I could suddenly see the next 28 years being more of the same shit, and things getting worse in the world, or people starting to treat me different due to my age, and I could see getting really sick of that, easy.

So these people are just tired. Tired of being here, tired of the same shit (which we can all avoid with exciting activities, but sometimes it creeps into our lives anyway), and tired of this body falling apart on them and making them more tired as a result.

Granted, there are some great, chipper old people not like them at all. But more often than not, the bitter ones are the ones we encounter every day because the other more jovial ones can afford to be in a resort somewhere in Florida or something.

We can all make attempts to avoid this bitterness we see in so many old people. But maybe we will have days where it just sucks to be old, and give into the bitterness. I just want those days to be few and far between if possible. I think staying passionate about the things you love, having happy, loving people around you as you age, and making efforts to find new ways to enjoy this world (that sometimes threatens to become rather boring or scary as you age) is the key to coping with this unavoidable time we will all go through at some point.

I stopped tearing up eventually, by the way. And instead I thought about how lucky I am to be alive and healthy right here, right now.

And that is enough for me right now.