Last weekend I was in Chicago to celebrate a different sort of world tour. My grandmother is going to be 100 years old in June. My aunt got us together to celebrate a little early—it was four of us grandkids and eight great-grandkids. More will be visiting soon; we couldn’t all get there at the same time. I will be back in a couple weeks when my mom visits from Cape Town. (You can see where I get my inclination for world travel.) The truth is you can celebrate a 100th birthday as many times as you want.
Grandma is in good health except for constant pain in her hip, which makes it hard for her to walk or even stand. She manages the pain with drugs, but they make her groggy. She’s always been a very independent woman, traveling the world, going to see theater every chance she gets. It’s hard for her to be so limited, she can’t even leave the retirement home now. When she talks about her life, it sounds like me when I’ve been on vacation for too long. It’s been fun but I’m ready to go home now.
In Chicago the cicadas are just starting to hatch. We caught one that was just emerging from its carapace, its skin a creamy white instead of brown, its wings a fleshy yellow. We watched the eyes turn red right in front of us. When I come back in two weeks, they will be everywhere.
