Privilege Card

It has become my norm to dine out alone to escape the dust and the grating sounds in our home. Since June, when the renovation of our 48 house started, dust and sounds have been my daily associates. 

Without sounding schmaltzy, I look back to those days before January this year when Tony left us for his eternal home. I never had to dine alone—not at home or outside. 

Today, I had lunch in a resto that bears my name, Mary Grace. When I asked for my tab, the waiter asked, “Ma’am, do you have a privilege card?” 

I pondered that for a few seconds. “Sorry, no, I only have a senior citizen card.” 

He grinned. “That was what I meant, Ma’am. But others get offended with the word senior.” 

LOL. I have embraced the life of a senior from day one. With it comes so many privileges. I get escorted to the comfort room, sales people offer me a seat in a store, security guards open doors for me, traffic policemen help me cross a street, etc. I get preferential treatment in crowded or wide places wherever I go. 

Those are privileges (countless!) that came with my senior citizen card. 

I had written about this in one of books, "What, Me Retire?"  

The day I received my senior citizen card, I had it immediately laminated, and after caressing it, I kept it inside a special space in my cardholder. A week later, after dining in a resto with Tony, the waiter gave us the tab. Tony handed him his senior citizen card. And then . . . with dramatic flourish, I took my own new card and waved it in slomo to the waiter. I heard in my mind a background music swell into crescendo. 

It was a moment of rare privilege and grace.