I met a young, chubby woman from India at an exhibition we were both part of. We were happy to see each other and hugged. Her coat smelled like marijuana. I asked her,
“Do you smoke weed?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“I used to with friends a long time ago. Now that I’m older, when my body starts to ache and I’m in pain, I plan to smoke again. It’s legal now.”
When I said that, she replied, “If you want to smoke, come to my studio. Let’s smoke together.”
There’s a big age gap between us. But she didn’t push me away—she invited me in.
Right after I got married, one New Year’s Eve in Manhattan on Grand Street, many friends gathered at a large studio. One friend had bought weed from Washington Square park, and we passed it around. At the time, it was illegal, so we smoked in secret. Suddenly, a woman next to me cried.
“Fire! There’s a fire! It’s too hot!”
We were all startled and shook her to bring her back to her senses. Then she cried again,
“Water! There’s a flood! I’m being swept away! Help me! Hold onto me!”
Everyone panicked, wondering if we needed to call an ambulance. I remember how, after smoking, the music that used to sound flat came alive, every note seeming to move closer, as if I was wandering in a fourth-dimensional world. But when the woman suddenly started yelling about fire and water, I snapped back to reality. I was so hungry, I kept opening and closing the fridge, looking for food.
The friends who kept smoking weed got lazy. They wouldn’t wake up until noon, when it got dark they smoked marijuana again. I had no money and was too busy trying to survive, so I naturally stopped smoking.
Both my sons climb at the climbing gym. One day, my older son fell and injured his back. Even after many hospital visits, he didn’t get better, but after about three months of using weed, he found relief and recovered.
“Don’t smoke too often. It’ll make you lazy.”
“I don’t like the smell, so I only use it when I really need it. Mom, if you’re ever in pain, you should try it. Should I get some for you?”
“Not now—maybe later, if my health gets worse. Then you can get it for me.”
“My friend’s dad has a weed license and owns several stores. All the shops without licenses have shut down.”
“No wonder so many shops popped up and disappeared. I was curious. Your friend’s dad must be raking in money.”
After marijuana was legalized, I added it to my list of retirement plans. If the pain gets bad, I want to smoke and calmly end my life with a comfortable body and peaceful mind.
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