Every Saturday, after work, I visit my grandmother at her nursing home. It’s about a half an hour drive to get there, but it’s worth the drive. Grandma G isn’t the normal nursing home type you’d think of: sweet, unsuspecting, a kind of elderly innocence.

They say that time is a constant,

In math world it is an unchanging letter k. 

But I say that it becomes a variable,

A perfect letter x. 

Time can be carefully controlled, ceaseless,

A cascading current.

“Take all the time you need,”

They said.

But now I’d much rather be in bed,

Because I’m 76 today.

My life is beginning to fade away.

“Take all the time you need,”

They said.

I hope you’re happy.

Now I’m dead.

On a Friday in the middle of January at about 12:30 in the afternoon, a little less than 10 people occupy the Chinese Cuisine. Among the nail salon, the boutique, and the FedEx office, it waits for customers.