Today I saw a white haired old lady sitting on the curb talking to a police officer and another older lady. She had spilled her can of Hawaiian punch all over the walk way. After a moment I realized it wasn't Hawaiian punch.
I felt for the lad on the cement. She was older, and when I think of older people I generally think that they have lived through the pain you expect in life and don't deserve that kind of pain. The same thing for children. When you are in your late teens and twenties you are fit, ready for life, and when you hit your mid to late sixties you should be done with the parts that hurt you like that. I don't know why it suddenly came to me like that, while looking at this woman I didn't know. The pain of the young and old seems somehow unfair, while pain in your prime years seems somehow justifiable.
So yesterday I was reminded of something else. I have a job and a wife and a child. I need to pay as much attention to being a good person as I do to being a good worker and a good husband and father. I need to be more understanding of others pain and know when I can do something to help, and when I can not.
I need to take a little time out to help people, not clients. I need to work harder and making "special" clients less of an entity, and more of a person regardless of their attempts to prove me wrong. I need to get involved with society again, in a positive manner.
I guess the blood of an old woman has brought me back to my core, and shown me what I need to do to get right with myself.