The Stumble – Three Word Wednesday

She’d rushed forward as soon as she saw the old man stumble.

As usual she’d been preoccupied, talking on the cell phone, arguing with her husband, who’d called to tell her that he was going to get home late...again. It’d been a hectic day, just like 364 others.  She often wondered why people kept telling her that things got easier as kids grew up. Heck no! As they grew, so did their schedule.  Being Mommy was no longer enough, she had to be personal assistant, resident psychologist/agony aunt, party planner, tutor, personal chef and shopper and she was obviously expected to pitch in and bail them out of  last minute school projects.  On some days twenty four hours did not seem enough. On top of all that was her own job, the one that paid, at least.  So there she was, at the traffic light, mentally willing the damn thing to turn green,  juggling her shopping bags in one hand and her phone in the other, when she saw the old man stumble. In a second he would have fallen right into the path of the throng of oncoming traffic, but she’d rushed forward, grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

The old man looked dazed, uncomprehending, still in shock as he looked at the strong young arm that supported him. “ Sir, are you alright?”, she asked him. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and mumbled, “Thank you”. “Are you alright, sir?”, she repeated her question. “I think so” he said as she gently removed her hand from his arm. But then he groaned and grimaced in pain. “It’s my ankle, I can’t stand. Must’ve hurt it” he started crumpling down. “It’s alright”, she told him looking around for a place to seat him. There was none. So she did the next best thing and flagged down a passing taxi. “Is there anyone I can call?”, she asked taking out her phone. “No”, he shook his head mournfully, “Son and daughter, both live far away.” “Sorry for being such a nuisance” he mumbled after a while. “It’s no problem at all”, she fibbed, while mentally rearranging her schedule which had taken quite a bruising, thanks to this detour.

“You could, maybe, call my neighbour, he’d take me home. You’ve spent enough time here already”, he offered from the hospital bed, after seeing her surreptitiously checking her watch for the hundred and ninety third time.

She waited till he was safely in his neighbour’s car. As she waved goodbye, he suddenly leaned out of the window and took both her hand in his. “Thank you, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be …..” he trailed off. “These days young people rarely have any time to spare.Your parents must be so proud of you. . .Thank you, my dear.”  She stood there stock still, staring at the wrinkled, withered hands in hers.

She was still standing there after the car pulled away.  Memories! Oh God! They came like gatecrashers, unwanted, uninvited. Memories of wrinkled hands holding her hands tight, as if never wanting to let go. Of young strong hands that had picked her up after a fall in the playground and carried her all the way to the nearest hospital. Of gentle, soothing hands that wiped her fevered brow during her bout with measles. Of sturdy hands that had steadied the handlebar as they taught her to ride her cycle. Of  loving hands that comfortingly hugged her as she wept while leaving home for the first time. Hands that had cared for her during all the phases of her life. Hands that now were, frail and wrinkled and needed her support. Hands that she hadn’t seen in quite a while.

She hoped that in a far away town, some good Samaritan would look out for a helpless old couple. She hoped that Karma would kick in and do it’s bit. She picked up her phone and started searching for a number that was rarely ever  there in her last dialed list.  “Dad?Mom?”

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Written for 3WW – grimace, phase, stumble