Over the next few weeks, Grandma’s levving powers started to slip. She would pick up the wrong things. She almost scalded herself when she dropped a cup of tea. Then came the day she levved all those cats.
That night, Dad called a family meeting. “Ma,” he said gently. “We think it’s time for you to stop levving.”
Grandma looked sad. She knew it was time, but she didn’t stop right away. Then later that week, she came into my room.
“I can’t lev anymore,” she said. “From now on, you’ll do it for me.”
“But I’m not as good as you are,” I said.
“In that case, we’d better practice,” she said.
After that, practicing felt less like training and more like a partnership. While I was learning to lev, she was learning not to.