Attaining Aunty-hood

A hefty middle-aged local guy leapt up from his seat when I entered the crowded waiting room, called me Aunty, and offered me his seat.  I thanked him but declined because I only had a quick question for the office staff.  These days I’m always pleasantly surprised by the Aunty-thing.  This happened to me more often post-knee replacements when I used either a cane or a walker.  My plump Aunty-shape and gray hair completed the picture.  I patted the large fellow on the shoulder and thanked him once again for his kindness when I left.  Well-raised boy, him.  I paid it forward later that day by holding elevator doors open for even older folks in wheelchairs and their caregivers.  No biggie.  We can all use – and provide – a little help for our friends.


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