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LIGHTNING FLICKERED AND THUNDER rumbled over Washington, DC, early that Friday morning. The storms had been rolling through all night, but the old woman slept soundly.

Regina Cross was in her nineties and had been officially retired for many years, but her alarm still jangled at five a.m. just as it had every Monday through Friday for seven decades.

Nana Mama, as she was fondly known, had long believed that rising at five was one of her superpowers.

It was quiet at five. She could be alone at five. There were few demands from the outside world at five. Getting up at five was about working on her inner self.

Nana rolled over and, without opening her eyes, reached out to shut off the alarm. She lay there a few moments listening to the rain before cracking open first one eye and then the other.

Still here, the old woman thought, and laughed a little.

She wiggled her fingers and toes before slowly clenching each muscle group in her body from her calves upward, flexing her thighs, rear, abdomen, back, chest, arms, and hands. Finally, she rolled her head to the left and then the right.

She laughed softly to herself again. Still kicking. Still smiling.

Another of her superpowers: a sense of humor.

Though her right hip had been something of a bother lately, Nana Mama got out of bed with only minor aches, kicked her feet into slippers, and put on her robe. Then she held on to the foot of her bed, faced the crucifix over the headboard, and lowered her knees onto a soft cushion. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands at her heart, and began to pray.

Nana Mama started as she always did, by thanking her Savior for another day alive. She expressed gratitude for her family members and for the purpose and strength they’d always given her. She felt blessed at the long and meaningful arc of her career as a teacher and school administrator and now as an English tutor on YouTube.

“Can You believe it, Lord?” she murmured and chuckled. “I can’t. But I enjoy it so much. I have no words, except to say that I am humbled by Your grace.”

She bowed her head, feeling a familiar warmth well up inside her. I am not bored or tired. I am still in awe of the miracle of my life.

Nana Mama did not end her prayer session with requests. She rarely did that anymore, believing that at her age, she’d been given two lifetimes of gifts already.

Just make me a better person while You can, Lord. That’s all I’m asking.

Then she let her mind fall silent and enjoyed the quiet until her hip began to nag at her. Rather than fight it, she took the pain as a signal to rise and go to her desk.

After clicking on the desk lamp, she sat, opened a little notebook, and read over her to-do list. She picked up a pen and crossed off those items she’d taken care of yesterday and noted the two tasks she had not yet completed. Then she wrote down the new tasks, large and small, that she wanted to get done today.

When Nana Mama was finished with her list, she used a pencil to number each goal, pausing several times to reassess, erase, and put them in a new order of importance. When she was satisfied, she could almost see the happy pattern of the day flowing smoothly. Another of her superpowers.

It was twenty minutes to six when she heard a door creak open. She closed her notebook, got up, and opened her bedroom door.

She saw her grandson Alex Cross sneaking down the stairs, his tie hanging loose over his crisp white dress shirt, his shoulder harness empty. He was back on the Metro Police force full-time, no longer just a consultant. He heard her and looked over.

“You want breakfast?” she asked.

Alex shook his head. “Sampson and I are taking the early shift at the soup kitchen before work. I’ll eat there.”

“Give my best to John and everyone.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too. When will you be home?”

“Unclear, as usual,” Alex said as he continued down the stairs.

Nana Mama was about to go to the kitchen and make some coffee but seeing Alex retrieve his service pistol from the lockbox in the closet stopped her cold.

Her grandson was a grown man. He’d had a long, decorated career hunting criminals for the FBI and the DC Metro Police. And yet the sight of him arming himself still got to her, released a protective instinct in her she could barely control. She took two steps toward him.

“Alex!” she hissed when he was halfway out the front door.