Yesterday, I passed by a group of elders without greeting them. I didn’t even notice them at first my mind was somewhere else, lost in the usual rush of thoughts and unfinished plans. But they noticed me. One of them called out sharply, “Young man, don’t you see us here?” I stopped. Turned back. Their faces were lined with time, their eyes carrying that firm yet caring authority only age can give. I mumbled a quick apology, trying to smile, but before I could continue, they began to speak. Not shouting, just scolding the kind of scolding that sits somewhere between correction and concern. “Young people these days,” one said. “No greetings, no respect. You see your elders and just pass as if you were alone in this world.” Their words cut through the noise in my head. I stood there quietly, nodding, listening. To anyone else, it might have been just a brief moment of embarrassment. But for me, it was something else entirely. Their voices firm, warm, and heavy with exp...