I grew up trailing this old lady. She'd blow a month's salary on roller skates for me. Take me to Turtle Mountain when the rapeseed flowers covered everything yellow, just to fly kites. Teach me how to fight with other kids. Invite me to watch A Native of Beijing in New York (1993) like we were equals. Partner up with me at the mahjong table. On rainy nights when my joints ached, she'd press her thick thighs over my small knees until the pain eased.
She cursed at me constantly. Accepted every ridiculous nickname I gave her anyway.
Now she trails me. These past years I've taken her east, west, north, south. Her skin, her stamina—so good it makes me careless about my own future. Thinking: well, even old can be pretty great.
Grandma, thank you for raising me so casually, like it was nothing. Thank you for keeping yourself in such good shape that you can still trek mountains with me.
