Help Granny off at the next stop. Shes holding everyone up.
The old tram groans along its tracks, creaking like some worn-out beast just managing to make it through another shift. Its early morning, and people crowd together, eyes fixed on their phones, faces drawn, everyone lost in their own hurried world.
At the third stop, the old woman steps on.
Tiny and frail in her shabby overcoat, clutching a well-mended cloth bag, she hesitates at the door. The tram jolts into motion, and she wobbles. Gripping a pole with both hands, she clenches it as if its the only solid thing left.
Hurry up, love! someone grumbles behind her.
She doesnt reply.
She edges forward, one tentative step after another.
Her bag swings heavily. You can see the end of a crusty loaf and a bottle of milk peeking outnothing else.
Reaching an empty seat, she stops, short of breath. Glancing around, she finds every spot filled. A lad with headphones, a smartly dressed woman, a man in a business suit with a laptop perched on his knees.
Excuse me, could I just rest a moment? she asks softly.
Nobody moves.
The tram lurches to a stop again. The old woman stumbles, catching herself on a seat back. The woman sitting there snaps, turning sharply,
Mind yourself! Youve muddied my coat!
The old woman looks down.
Im sorry
The conductor, a young man, leans out from his compartment and calls,
Madam, please dont block the aisle! Youre in the way!
She nods,
Im getting off at the next
Better get off now! someone says loudly.
Yeah, cant you see its packed? adds another voice.
The tram buzzes with quiet muttering.
Why do old folk even leave the house these days?
Dont they have anyone?
Always causing a fuss
The old woman doesnt reply. She shuffles closer to the doors, each step small and careful. The tram stops at the lights between stations.
And then something happens.
The front door swings open and a ticket inspector steps in. He surveys the tram, and when he spots the old woman leaning by the door, he freezes.
Mum?
The entire tram falls silent.
The inspector hurries over.
Mum, what are you doing here? Why didnt you ring me?
She raises her head in surprise.
I just wanted to visit the cemetery Its your fathers birthday today. I didnt want to put you out.
The ticket inspector forces down a lump in his throat.
Since when did you start travelling on your own?
Since I stopped wanting to be a burden.
Only the faint rumble of the tram can be heard.
He turns to the carriage.
Do you know what this woman did for me thirty years ago?
She woke before dawn to make my breakfast.
Kept me in school.
Held my hand all the way to the doctors.
And today shes called a nuisance.
Nobody says a word.
The businessman is first to stand up.
Please, take my seat, madam
Then another, and another.
The old woman sits carefully, tears shining in her eyes.
You shouldnt have I didnt want to trouble anyone
The inspector takes her bag.
Mum you never caused trouble. We just forgot who kept us standing.
The tram rattles on through the city, as its passengers stare at the floor, the weight of a thought heavy on their hearts:
that one day, each of us will be too much for someone else.
If youve ever seen someone humiliated just for being old, share your thoughts.
Pass this on. Offering a seat at the right moment can speak more than a thousand words.
