On Being Old

My grandmother was very ill, and a friend was talking to me about how difficult it was to see my grandmother like that.

A little girl, one of my students, was listening to the conversation. Once my friend had left, she asked me, “Miss, what happened to your mother?”

“Nothing happened to my mother,” I replied, smiling.

“Then who was Auntie talking about?”

“My grandmother.”

She looked at me with big, round eyes. “Your grandmother is still alive!?”

“Yes!” I replied, surprised. “All four grandparents are alive.” Realising that I was lucky in this respect, I asked, “Are yours alive?”

“Of course!” she said with a puzzled shrug. “But I’m young!”

I, on the other hand, was 24 years OLD.