Precerpt from Grandma's Ninja Training Diary: The Softener Gambit
Yesterday, the water softener tank needed potassium. Four 40-pound bags. The tank’s top sits at my chin—awkward height for a short woman with aging shoulders and a healthy respect for gravity. So, I asked my visiting son, who’s eight inches taller, to help. Chest-level for him. Easy. We picked up the bags at Ace Hardware. He carried one into the basement. I carried two—one in each hand. Easier to balance 80 pounds split between two hands than carry 40 in one hand and nothing in the other. My son dumped his bag into the tank, then turned to me and said, “Can you go grab the last one?” Sure. I trotted off and brought it down. No big deal. But I wonder how many adult children expect their 75-year-old mother to carry 80 pounds of potassium and then go fetch more. I’m not sure he even noticed. It wasn’t ninja in the leaping-through-shadows sense. It was ninja in the unquestioned competence sense. The kind that doesn’t announce itself. The kind that just lifts, balances, an...