Virgin

Grandma finishes her lunch. This, after having her hair done every Friday afternoon for too many years to count. A woman at another table orders a French martini. Grandma's curiosity steps up. She tries new things now. At more than one hundred years old she figures it's time. At the moment she wants to taste a refreshing beverage (not so new) at the bar (never done before). Grandma is, after all, a bar virgin. Translation: grandma always enjoys her drinks and meals at proper tables for ladies, not belly up with a view of the bottles. Her daughter-in-law pulls out a stool. Grandma slides aboard. The bartender mixes vodka, pineapple juice, and raspberry liqueur. Most fills a martini glass. A taste remains for Grandma. She smiles and laughs, especially at all of the attention. A server grabs a camera. She'll print out the image for her. The temptation to join Grandma is strong but I stay put. I came close to not ordering this drink. With an empty stomach and flush from running errands, the alcohol intake seemed unwise. Not now. Grandma is not my grandma, but today she is everyone's.