Grandma called me yesterday and asked if I would take to the marijuana dispensary.
She needed her medical marijuana.
I had to work today, and I couldn’t take her. Mom had a doctor’s appointment and offered to take her when she got home, but grandma didn’t like being out after dark. She couldn’t see when it started to get dark. My brother texted me while I was work and told me grandma drove her jazzy to the marijuana dispensary. He was on his way home from school, and he saw her coming out of the medical marijuana dispensary. I stopped off at grandma’s house on the way home from work. I asked her why she didn’t tell me it was so important to get to the medical marijuana dispensary that she couldn’t wait for me to get out of work. She told me she had charged her jazzy last night, and it wasn’t that far. She was perfectly safe riding the eight blocks to the medical marijuana dispensary. I wondered what would have happened if she had been mugged or if the jazzy had tipped over. She told me I was worse than my mother when it came to worrying. She was eighty years old and still able to take care of herself. Besides, it was a beautiful day, and she had her backpack to keep the medical marijuana safe and out of sight. She patted my hand like I was a little girl and whispered it wasn’t the first time she had been out without a chaperone. I knew why mom got frustrated with her.