In Rick’s family they tell a very endearing story about his grandparents. His gramma, no doubt spurred on by a story of someone losing their sight, decided that in the event she should become blind, she should probably practice. Just, you know, in case.

The dead of night, with all its present darkness, provided such a reminder to Gramma as she woke up and needed to use the bathroom. She got out of bed and, keeping her eyes closed against any intruding glow, she shuffled her way to the bathroom. Unfortunately for Gramma, she never noticed Grampa was already on the toilet, until she shuffled right into him.

I’m not sure how much she “practiced” after that.

One good thing about practicing for bad things is that you sometimes get prepared for things you didn’t expect. (Let’s just say that Grampa not alerting Gramma to the fact that he was already there did nothing to alleviate her ensuing fright.)

No one should like to imagine worst-case scenarios – unless you make your living as a life-insurance risk analyst. And some people do just fine floating along in their everything-is-awesome! bubble. But sometimes it can help us realistically to look ahead to the future and say, not just What if? but When…

As in: When I get older, I’m gonna be okay with it.

I’m gonna be okay when my skin on the back of my hand doesn’t bounce back but instead stays like that when I pinch it. In fact, I might find it amusing.

I’m gonna be okay in the gym with walking on the treadmill instead of running. After all, my target heart rate is going down as I get older, so I’m just being responsible.

I’m gonna be okay when I am so tired at 9 o’clock at night that I want to cry but then wake up two hours later and am WIDE awake. And I’ll even be okay when I finally feel sleepy again but then have to go to the bathroom. STAT.

I’m gonna be okay when my kids want to show me something on their phone and first say, “Hey, Mom, get your glasses.” Of course, I have a pair on my desk, in my purse, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, on my bedside table, in the car. . . and I keep buying them in bulk at Costco.

I’m gonna be okay when “young people” look at me aghast when I reminisce about phones being attached to walls; about sneaking in to work early to use the photocopier for personal reasons; about writing cheques to pay the rent; about how circus performers, carnies and ex-cons were the only people you ever saw with a tattoo; about getting up to change the channel (there were only two) on the television; about how people used to be able to smoke in restaurants; and about not being able to instantly Google who was the actor that played Steve Urkel. (It was Jaleel White.)

I’m gonna be okay when I know NONE of the nominees for the Oscars by name. (Unless they’re from “my generation”.) In fact, I’m Not. Even. Gonna. Care. And if I do, that’s what Google is for. After all, Einstein didn’t even bother to remember his own phone number because he knew he could look it up.

I’m gonna be okay when I have to have bunion surgery. Twice. Because hey, who’s gonna complain about a two-week stay-cation on the couch? I don’t have to get up to change the channel anymore, remember?

The thing about Gramma was that she wasn’t being morose – she was one of the most optimistic people I ever met. Her middle-of-the-night-blindness-practice was kinda kooky, but it was her way of proving to herself that, come-what-may, she was gonna be okay.

And anyways, if you’re awake in the middle of the night, it is something to do.