Crickets chirp; Sharp happiness

At Grandma's house, the frogs chirp in harmony and the rooster scratches vigorously on the hay so that his mate can come in and forage more comfortably.

The bright red cherry tomatoes hang from the happy plants like apples in the Garden of Eden.

When Pam and I arrive we find Grandma Peng, who has the flexibility of a twenty-year-old yoga instructor, bending straight down in order to gather petals of saffron. She cracks a toothless grin, cackles and reaches out a wrinkly, muscular little hand to me as I approach her.

She "wais" to me and immediately asks if we want some tomatoes. She ferociously reserves them for her family, which now includes me.

This is the same woman who a couple months before I saw ruthlessly rip the spiny fin from a young catfish while it still flapped wildly in the bottom of the black plastic bucket. She explained she did it so I wouldn't get hurt when picking it up. It's this bountiful love which shocks me and at the same time totally disarms me with its innocence and genuineness. It is a mother's love, which would do anything to protect its young. Even though she is 86, I'm sure it would never even cross her mind to use her age as an excuse to not do something for her family.

And thus, when last week she crouched behind me as we sat in her shady rice hut, and reached those same bony arms around my chest to squeeze my flabby pecs while exclaiming with glee "Pen gon ook pook! Bouncy like little girls'breasts!" I was not insulted but only humbled.

I have since started jogging and doing push-ups every morning.