Definitely in the running for sappiest human on earth

Me, of course. Today I was grocery shopping in a nearby town. Despite it being midday Monday, the store was busy, presumably with Thanksgiving shoppers. Phook and I were cruising around minding our own business, and I was in a pleasant mood. Nothing had me feeling even remotely sappy. And then I saw her.

She was an elderly woman, probably about 80 or so. She had on a very attractive pistachio colored cable knit sweater. Her white hair was perfectly coiffed; she had the look of a lady who goes to the beauty shop once a week to have her hair washed and set. She wore glasses. She had on some makeup that flattered her. She just had the look of a woman who doesn't go out of the house without looking her best, and she probably hasn't in 70 years or so. Although I debate the merits of this philosophy for myself, I find it so heartwarming when I see much older women who have this look. I always imagine them as total foxes in their heyday, wearing a red dress and matching red lipstick, going out dancing with their sailors who just got back from the war. She can probably still dance, I betcha.

So anyhow, she caught my eye. She was standing over the freezer case full of turkeys. She was touching various birds and she was clearly trying to choose. As I got closer, I saw more details. The one that caught me was her hands. They looked like your typical 80-year-old's hands. Nothing much left of them...just the bones and dark veins. And as she touched the turkeys, I noticed they were shaking. Not with real tremors or anything, just with age. She looked closely at one turkey, turning it with her shaky hands, and then she put her right hand to the top of her head in a gesture of thinking, calculating whether or not this was a big enough turkey for her family, I'm sure.

And something about witnessing that simple gesture made me burst into tears. I just saw the care in her thoughts as she looked at that turkey. I thought about the family she must have and how many Thanksgivings she has cooked for them. I thought about how it must be getting harder and harder every year to make that big meal with those delicate shaky hands. Those hands. They have done it all. They have diapered her babies, soothed hurt children, wiped her own tears, done so much work. I wondered if she was a widow and guessed that she was. I imagined that she had a huge number of children, and how tired she must have been getting up and putting that turkey in the oven when they were little. I just imagined her whole life and I wanted to hug her and tell her she should be so proud of how much she has loved her family her entire life, since the days when those hands were smooth like porcelain. I wanted to tell her she was beautiful. I wanted to tell her that I'd come over and peel the potatoes this year.

I didn't. I just kept rolling with my cart, choking back tears and not breathing appropriately and being a complete freak over something I completely invented.

But she caught me, she really did. I like when that happens. I like when you really see another human in a human moment and you are forced to stop and think about what it means to be one of us. And it is good to be reminded that in the blink of an eye, you will be the one with the shaky hands.