She’s 78, Wears Cardigans, and Loves Sudoku… So Why Did My Grandmother Sneak Out at Midnight in a Red Dress? (2 of 4)

There, by the front door, stood my grandmother.

Not in her usual button-up nightgown.
Not in her usual slippers.

She was wearing a bright red dress. Short. Cinched at the waist. Red lipstick. Heels. Earrings that caught the hallway light.

And she was slipping out the door like a teenager sneaking out past curfew.

She didn’t see me. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care.

I stood in the dark, confused, holding my glass of water like it might explain anything.

I didn’t sleep that night. I watched the driveway through the blinds, half-expecting a black town car or a man in a tux. She didn’t return until nearly 3 a.m.—heels in her hand, hair a little tousled, humming a melody I didn’t recognize.

The next morning, she was back in beige. Reading the Wall Street Journal. Drinking Earl Grey like nothing had happened.

So I asked. Carefully.

“Did you go out last night?”

She didn’t even look up. “Mmm-hmm.”