I don't even know why I'm typing this out, it feels so stupid to admit, but like, I guess that's the point of this, right? Okay, so my grandma, she's like, seventy-five, right? And her best friend, Martha, is the same age. They've literally known each other since grade school, always together. But Martha, man, Martha is still... *active*. Like, she just ran a MARATHON. Not like, a walk-a-thon, a full-on, twenty-six point two miles, marathon. And my grandma was telling me about it on the phone last week, like, "Oh, Martha called me, she's so excited, she shaved a whole ten minutes off her last time!" And my grandma sounded really happy for her, you know? Like, genuinely proud. But I could also totally hear this… edge? Underneath it, like she was trying to hide it. And it just hit me, like, holy shit, my grandma is probably so incredibly jealous. Not in a mean way, but like, Martha can still *do* that. My grandma, she had knee surgery a couple years ago, and she can't even walk to the mailbox without her cane, and even then she's huffing and puffing. And here's her best friend, same age, talking about running for literally hours. And my grandma was like, "Yeah, she even said she saw her old tennis coach, Mr. Henderson, at mile eighteen, can you believe that?" And I could just picture her, like, sitting on her favorite armchair, probably watching some rerun of Wheel of Fortune, and listening to Martha talk about running past a whole goddamn city. It just felt so... sad. For her, you know? It's just so fucked up to think about how much your body just... gives up on you. Like, one minute you're doing whatever you want, and the next you're stuck, watching someone else live their best life, and it's someone you love, so you HAVE to be happy for them, but inside, you're probably just screaming. My grandma said she was gonna send Martha some flowers, "a big bouquet, like a dozen roses, really make a statement," and I could hear her fake cheerfulness, like, she was trying really hard. It just made me think about all the things she used to do, you know? She used to swim like every single day. Now she can barely get out of bed in the mornings without help. It's just a lot to take in, I guess. Like, what even happens when you can't *do* anything anymore? I don't know, man. It just really sucks.