“Let Nan Get Off at the Next Stop—She’s Only Getting in the Way.” The rickety old tram groaned alo…

Would someone help that old dear off at the next stop? Shes really just in the way.
That ancient tram creaked and groaned like a tired beast dragging itself through another morning. It was barely dawn, and everyone was crammed inside, heads bowed over their mobiles, faces shut off from the world, each caught up in his own rush.
At the third stop, an old lady got on.
She was tiny, her figure wrapped in a faded overcoat, clutching a cloth shopping bag stitched at the seams. She stepped on timidly and faltered. The tram jerked into motion, making her sway. Both hands gripped the pole as if it were the only sturdy thing left in her world.
Hurry along, love! someone muttered behind her.
The elderly lady held her tongue.
One step. Then another.
Her bag hung heavy from her arm. Sticking out was the end of a loaf and a bottle of milk. Nothing more.
She paused beside an empty seat and caught her breath, glancing about. All the seats were taken. A lad with headphones, a smartly dressed woman, a man in a suit with a laptop perched on his knees.
If you wouldnt mind, let me just rest a moment, she said, voice barely above a whisper.
No one budged.
The tram jolted to a halt. The old woman lost her balance and caught hold of a seat back. Its occupant, a woman, twisted round, clearly irritated.
Careful! Youve gone and marked my coat!
The old lady dropped her gaze.
Im sorry
The conductor, a young man, looked out from his cabin and called out,
Madam, do move out of the aisle! Youre blocking the way!
She nodded.
Ill get off at the next stop
Best if you get off now! snapped another loudly.
Dont you see its absolutely packed in here? added a second.
Murmurs rippled through the tram.
Why do old folk even bother coming out these days?
Dont they have anyone?
Just a nuisance
The old woman didnt answer. She stepped carefully nearer the door. The tram stopped again at the lights, not at a platform.
And suddenly, something happened.
The front door swung open and a ticket inspector got on. He took a quick look around, but when he saw the old woman resting against the door, he froze.
Mum?
Silence swept the tram.
He hurried out and approached her.
Mum, what are you doing here? Why didnt you ring me?
She looked up, surprised by his sudden presence.
I wanted to visit the cemetery Todays your fathers day. I didnt want any bother.
The inspector swallowed hard.
How long have you been making your way alone on the trams?
Ever since I decided not to be anyones burden anymore.
The only sound left was the faint whir and rattle of the engine.
He turned to face the passengers.
Do you know what this lady was up to thirty years ago? Shed wake at four just to make me breakfast. She saw me through school. She held my hand all the way to the doctors office. And now, people call her a trouble.
No one had a word to offer.
The man in the suit stood up first.
Please, take my seat, madam
Another followed. Then another.
The elderly lady sat herself down slowly, tears glistening in her eyes.
You shouldnt have I didnt want to put anyone out
The inspector took her bag from her.
Mum youve never been a bother. Its us whove forgotten where we came from.
The tram rolled on.
And the people, heads dipped, were left with the heavy thought:
One day, each of us will be just one too many for someone.
If youve ever seen someone belittled simply for being old, write about it. Share this further. Sometimes, offering your seat says more than a thousand words.
My own lesson that morning was one I wont soon forget: kindness to those who paved our way is never a burden. I hope I remember that when my mother gets old.