Locust Years

A Story by Jay Wallace

"I believe I have made an important decision," Marion said. "Last night, late, I sat up thinking about it; then I

composed a letter to my son and his wife, accepting their gracious hospitality."

The youngor woman shrugged.

"If you feel that's what you

want, Marion, then I suppose it is the best thing for you." She twisted suddenly in the deep, comfortable chair where she was sprawled, blue-denimed legs stretched out before her. "But I dunno, somehow you just don't strike me as the 'Grandmother' type."

Marion laughed softly. The wrinkles on either side of her warm brown eyes deepened. "Well, I am a grandmother, Connie. Nothing on earth can change that fact."

"I'm not trying to change facts, Marion," the younger woman said. "It's great to be a grandmother...I suppose; but it's just that you don't act like ono; at least, not around here. you don't. All the gay kids know you, and we all like you a lot. You're one of us.

"

"But, my

"And I like al' you kids a lot, too," she replied. dear, there must be at least twenty to twenty-five years difference between most of you youngsters and me."

Connie inhaled deeply on her cigaretto, then stomped it out in the large ceramic ashtray at her elbow. "Age doesn't make any difference, not in ourlife," she said. "Maybe you didn't find out about...us until you were married, or something. After all, you have a grown son."

Marion nodded. "A grown son and a grown daughter, too. Yes, you're right about me, Connie. I just didn't know the facts until it was too late; then, well... had my son by the time I had myself figured out, the insido-me, that is; and I just couldn't walk away. My little girl was born soon after that. I know some thing was missing in my marriage something subtle, evasive; at first, I didn't

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