Martín Tlalolini 19
Kung Fu Grandma by Annie Tao You know those senior citizens that just lug around giant canes, and quiver like collapsing buildings with every step they take? Maybe once in a while they’ll get up if they have to get some late night cocoa or answer doors, but other than that, they just sit there in giant fluffy grey couches and stare at TV screens. Sometimes they’ll actually get books from the bookshelf (something completely random or unheard of), and you’ll walk in the room and they’ll look like they’re reading, but they’re actually sleeping there with their books open. <strong>The</strong>y’ll probably yawn every five minutes, and their glasses are usually crooked so when you look at them, it looks like their heads were put on sideways or something. Well, my grandma’s not like that. Let me put it th<strong>is</strong> way: she’s 93 and she does kung fu. I mean, you’d think that she’d already be lying there in an old hospital cot, waiting for the day she can escape from th<strong>is</strong> “hell.” But no, she see’s life much differently than other 93-year-old grandmas. About three times a week, she invites her close friends over for a couple intense games of mahjong. That’s not to mention the fact that she wins almost every single time, which explains why her piggy bank <strong>is</strong> filled to the top and looks as if it’s going to explode. She goes out the last Sunday of every month with her best friend to get her hair done: washed, blow-dried, curled. She’s got th<strong>is</strong> sleek white hair. I know it sounds like I’m describing any other grandma’s hair…but her hair <strong>is</strong> really different. It’s like a bright pearly white color, so white that when she’s cuddling her little white Maltese puppy, they look related. I’m not even exaggerating. And when she gets it curled, it really DOES look like a thousand tiny pearls plopped on her head. Anyway, most other grandmas are babied by their grandchildren, but not my grandma. Boy, am I babied by her; she’s almost like my second mom…or even better, my bodyguard. If I don’t eat one grain of rice on my plate, she’ll make me come back to the table and fin<strong>is</strong>h it. If I just want to walk down the street to buy ice cream, she’ll snatch up her purse and follow me there. I don’t think she knows that I’m aware she’s behind me, but I don’t really mind that she’s there; I like the protection. However, she hates when other people baby her. Even when she’s tired from a long day of shopping, she still doesn’t want any ass<strong>is</strong>tance. One time, my family organized a huge dinner party. <strong>The</strong> only problem was, it was more than four blocks away— too close to take a cab and too far for her to walk...or so we thought. We offered to wheel her there in a rented wheelchair. But she didn’t want to—she wanted to walk. It took us about 40 minutes to get there, but I don’t think she was even the least bit exhausted. She hardly ever gets exhausted. Sometimes I wonder if she really <strong>is</strong> 93. Not only <strong>is</strong> she never tired, but she has the greatest sense of style. I used to think that she was just like any other grandma who <strong>is</strong> too lazy to buy nice clothes, and wears the same puke-colored sweater everyday. I remember on her 91st birthday, I went to the shopping center and bought two sunglasses: one for my grandma and one for my s<strong>is</strong>ter Alice. I was planning on giving Alice the brown aviators and my grandma the tacky pink glasses lined with sequins. I thought for sure that grandma would take the bright pink ones right away. But she picked the brown aviators without hesitation. My s<strong>is</strong>ter was d<strong>is</strong>appointed with the glasses I ended up giving her, but from that day on, I had to remember to buy Grandma the best clothes and accessories. But perhaps the most impressive of my grandmother’s accompl<strong>is</strong>hments <strong>is</strong> her kung fu hobby. She goes with a whole bunch of other people to the nearby park to practice every weekend, wearing her cute little white robe. And every time she comes home, she teaches me the latest moves. Usually, I catch on pretty quickly, but sometimes the steps are too hard. <strong>The</strong> irony <strong>is</strong> that I can’t do it, but she can. She can balance on one foot for the longest time. It’s so stable that she can probably fall asleep with a glass cup full of water balanced on top of her head in that position without it tipping over. 20 Sure, my grandma’s a bit different from all the other grandmas in the world. She’s protective like a personal bodyguard, fit to be a fashion designer and super competitive when it comes to mahjong. But she’s as unique as a grandma can get, and around her, there’s no need to be afraid of a robber, a crook, or a creepy man following us down a dark alley, because she’s my kung fu grandma.