Martha

I met Martha when I worked at my second job – the fabric store.  She worked in the quilting department and I often helped her.  Together we created pre-made fabric groupings that customers could buy.  Sometimes, we had ‘competitions’ in which we picked a particularly ugly fabric and the other person had to make up a fabric grouping for sale from it.  From there, we became friends outside of the job.  Martha is 76 years old and still working in retail.  Mind boggling and I hope that I am not in such financial straits that I need to work at 76 with failing health.

Saturday, I went to see her and we talked for almost 4 hours.  I got to check out her new digs and learn a bit more about her life.  But one thing I really noticed is that Martha is showing signs of her age.  It is not like she wasn’t showing signs before with her bum leg and missing teeth but it really disturbed me to see her hands shake.  In so many ways, I ignore things such as age and race when befriending people.  Those things simply aren’t important.  As a result, I often find myself being hit up the side of the face when obvious evidence of someone’s age or race come to my attention.  At 76, shaking hands are normal but the problem is that I don’t think of Martha as 76.  She is simply my friend.

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