An “Aha Moment”
Carmelene Melanie Siani
I had gone to the Indian Market to buy naan when I saw a man bent over, a huge hump on his back, enter the store.
Seeing through the open door that he’d arrived on a bicycle, I wondered, “How does he manage that?” His condition looked enormously painful, and I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to hold his neck curved up and out to see while riding. He gave me a big smile and a cheery good morning as he passed me, clearly quite comfortable with himself and confident about buying his groceries.
Standing in line, my back and leg aching, I wondered how I was going to carry my own groceries to the car. I examined my attitude toward my pain and that of the man with the hump toward his.
“If he has pain,” I thought, “you sure wouldn’t know it.”
I, on the other hand, make sure everybody knows. At least that’s how it seemed to me. I stepped carefully. I limped. I didn’t go up or down a step without holding on. And there were times — lots of times — when I was crabby. Very crabby.
Poor me.
On top of it, I would criticize myself for all of that. Not a helpful cocktail for overcoming pain in the first place.
Knowing I couldn’t carry more than 5 pounds, the store owner offered to carry my groceries out to the car. Going out ahead to clear a spot on the back seat, I turned to show her. Standing there holding my groceries wasn’t the store owner, but the man with the hump. Smiling that same bright smile.
“Here you go ma’am,” he said. “Have a good day!”
I’ve never forgotten that man and his attitude, his infectious grin, and what I perceived to be his perseverance in the face of a chronic disability. I wondered if he had gained all of that positive perspective from sheer force of will — something I definitely lacked — when something inside me said:
“No. His attitude wasn’t from force of will. He got it from carrying other people’s groceries to their car for them. He got it not from expecting others to show him kindness, but from him showing kindness to others.
Carmelene Melanie Siani’s widely published stories on family, caregiving, grief, late-life love and more aim to help others see how life constantly opens to reveal lessons. Find her at www.facebook.com/StoryBelly

