At Her Age

I was making lunch when I realized I had no vinegar for the salad. Ah! So that's why that plastic bottle was sitting empty on the counter last night. Stupid me!

So I did what I hardly ever do and went to my neighbour for half a teacup of vinegar. I rang the doorbell, but no one seemed to hear me. So I grabbed the chance when I met my upstairs neighbour and asked her.

I met her on the ground floor and she lives on the second floor. She could hardl get there. Her veins, she said. It must be the veins. She bought some pills and hopes things will get better soon.

We talked but I had to stop her (how rude of me!) so that I could finish the salad and put lunch on the table. I washed the dishes and went back upstairs. I had told the neighbour before that she should feel free to call me if she needed anything - and not go to town limping and in pain. She would, she said, but forgets where she had my number.

So I wrote my two phone numbers on a piece of paper and took them to her. Be sure to call me! I go to the shop almost every day, anyway....

A lady at 73, living on her own, doesn't let a guest flee away as they come. So we chatted some more. About people about her sweetheart who lives an hour or so away, about her children, about this and that.

And about her veins.
"I must have danced too much on Saturday," she says.

I must have had a surprised look on my face. But she wasn't joking.

"It's so nice to dance with him. I simply can't resist that. My favourite is English waltz.It feels like floating on water. But last Saturday we danced some rock'n'roll. I loved it, but I guess that was too much for my legs."

I couldn't help but smile: "You know, if your legs hurt from dancing, I'm sure it's worth it!"
She absolutely agreed. Smiling.

She's been through enough, still works quite alot at home, has half of a hip replaced with an artificial part and goes out and dances. Seriously - I can only hope to be half of the person she is (not literally, she's skinny) at her age!