This is Ruth, my grandmother. I wanted to begin this pre-disastered journey with a slice about her. 

As you can most likely tell, Ruth isn’t exactly the sort of gal you’d see running around, showing her tits at a Slayer show. At least, I hope she’s not. At about-to-turn-ninety, she’s entered that phase of senior privilege, which allows her to be shockingly honest without seeming prickly about it. In fact, her curtness is endearing in a real don’t-try-this-if-you’re-under-sixty-five kind of way. You might get fired. Or shot. 

Some years ago, Grandma moved in with Dad. The dynamics there are totally a sitcom waiting to happen with Dad’s verging on nelly gay and Grandma’s adjustment to the possibility that her generation elected the wrong president. With a bad hip and a whole slew of otherness, she spends her afternoons dosed up on Vicodin and helping Dad as much as possible with his Jurassic Park-esque gardens. Needless to say, she didn’t really end up where she expected life would take her.

A few years ago, she told me a story about her lifelong unhappiness and luster-free marriage. Without giving you two thousand words of text, I’ll paraphrase the important bits: “Follow your heart. Listen to your brain, but follow your heart. People will tell you to always think clearly, but that’s just a bunch of nonsense. You’re gonna die when it’s over, so don’t forget why you’re here.” I quit my job and got divorced. Then I ditched my PC for a MacBook. Hopelessly in love with my new uncertainties, I trapped Grandma for an afternoon recently.

“Grandma, look into the computer here.”

“Where?”

“Right here. Look, there’s a camera built in to the monitor.”

“Ooooooooooooooh! Oh, dear, no. I don’t know if I like that.”

“Ok, well, let’s change it to another effect.”

“You can change it?”

“Yeah, here. Just choose what you like and select the camera option for taking the shot. I think it gives you a few seconds to pose even.”

She played around for a second, clearly not trusting of this new tech fad.

“You know, I have been wanting to talk to you about something you told me last year, Grandma.”

“What’s that, Honey? OOOOOOH, look at this one!”

“Heh, yeah, that one’s cool. I just wanted to thank you for your advice about following my heart. I feel so much better now.”

Partially distracted between her pills and the Photobooth app, Ruth side-eyed me, “My advice?”

“Yeah, about following my heart. You told me to not listen to my brain and to — wait, no you told me to listen to my brain and to follow my heart and to…oh, I forget now, but it was something about pursuing happiness on my own level.”

“And I said that?”

This was supposed to have been my On Golden Pond moment here. “You did, yes.”

“I said you should follow your heart?”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember right now. I just wanted to thank you for being honest with me. That’s all.”

“Well, I don’t remember, but you are welcome, Honey. Oh, this is frightening! Look at my head!”

  I guess it didn’t matter. Grandma was enviably at the root of her own rapture, and not wanting to be a killjoy, I played along.

Well, ok then:

Dear Grandma, 

Thank you for saving me the trouble. I’m glad I listened to you that afternoon.

I’m broke, but I’ve got a lot more than I’ve ever had before: I know my daughter again. I quit smoking. I’m madly in love with a guy who holds my hands always. I am grateful, passionate, and…

Pre-disastered.

Love,

KK