Never Too Old To Misbehave

She had just turned 92 and while her body was in decline, her mind was still sharp, her wit still agile. Having finished with the doctor, she made the long trek down the hallway - shaky but unassisted, a nurse at her elbow, just in case - and she reached the front desk, a little out of breath, a little bent over, but still under her own power. She gave me a smile and a gold tooth gleamed, her hands were heavily veined with crooked fingers and neat nails. She wore an oversized watch and a plain gold band - 70 years of marriage to the same old man, she had once told me - and her hair, completely white but still thick and wavy, was pinned up in an uncooperative bun at the back of her neck. She adjusted her bifocals and produced her checkbook, Doc says I'm good for another 100,000 miles, she announced in a voice that was tremulous but cheerful, How much I owe, hon? She meticulously wrote out her check, the letters formed slowly and with great care, her crippled fingers fighting every pen stroke, the movements clearly painful for her. She folded her receipt and next appointment card and tucked them into her purse with some effort, pulled her coat closer over her thin shoulders, glanced around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. The nurse pulled open the door for her and she made her way through one cautious step at a time. In the waiting room, her son, Walter - a mere lad of 70 - reached for his cane and pulled himself to his feet, straightened his tie, and took her elbow. See you next time, I called, Ya'll behave yourselves, hear? Walter gave me a sour look and said At our age, there's not much choice, while his mother turned and gave us a wink, Ya'll too, she said with a cackling laugh, Ain't never too old to misbehave! Her son, we suspected a little less shocked than he appeared, glared at her, Mama! She gave him a mild cuff to the ear, Lighten up, boy, she snapped at him, I'm old but I ain't dead! Defeated in the face of such optimism, he guided her toward the door without another word, shoulders sagging and eyes on the floor.

Age is so much more than chronology.