Analysis of Elder Benevolence

It was a sunny autumnal day with
a touch of morning frost
in Asheville, North Carolina.
I was sipping apple juice at
the donor refreshment table at
the Red Cross.
She looked to be in her late sixties,
petite with coarse gray hair
pulled back with a faux
tortoiseshell barrette,
wrinkled brow over welling
hazel eyes.

She sat by me,
eyeing her small-framed
husband rising from his
donation gurney,
his thin arm held up as
the nurse wrapped his arm
with royal purple gauze.
She was frustrated and
spoke to me quietly,
"I wanted to give blood
today too, but I didn't
have enough iron."
Disappointment was written
in every detail of her face.

I was so moved by her
caring.
I reassured her by
telling her it was
noble of her,
a senior citizen,
to try to give her blood
to save other lives.
Many younger and
stronger people never
try to donate blood.

I patted her dainty hand,
smiled, and wished her
and her husband well.
As I walked to my car,
I thought she was so altruistic
with elder benevolence. ~