Here is Grandma, arm in arm with my brother, Daniel, who is possibly entering a fugue state. They are somewhere in Egypt, I would guess. I don’t know. The parental unit stopped lavishing international airfare on me at some point after college (although for a while there I had a pretty sweet thing going). Anyway, look at Grandma. Do you think she stares, vacantly, somewhere into middle space? Hardly. No, she is hatching a plan, or brewing up a joke. Perhaps she is reciting one of the seven million poems she keeps on permanent rotation inside her brain. Or maybe she’s relishing the sight of hirsute, galabia-clad locals. I wouldn’t put it past her. I wouldn’t have put anything past her. Gosh, she was formidable, and I miss her all the time. And I know I was her favorite, even though she went to Egypt without me.