In her heart, Lois Cambridge knew this would be her last library conference, but as her grandson, Eddie Driesen wheeled her into the cavernous presenters hall at McCormick Place in Chicago, the curious old woman had no idea why she had made the effort. A month earlier and just two days before she had turned 100, Lois had instructed Eddie to accept the invitation sent by the  conference's national organizers.  Eddie had read her the invitation and explained that the group planned to honor her for her 60 years as a librarian; Lois was old enough to know that was not a good enough reason to attend. She didn't need another longevity plaque and although she lived in Chicago only a stone's throw from the venue, it would still involve a lot of logistics to get her there. What compelled her to accept the invitation to join the hoards of attendees had not yet been revealed to her.
     So, from the moment she arrived in the great conference room, Lois was intrigued by the prospect of finding out why she had made the effort. Was it because of a person she would meet or an event that would take place or possibly a few words that she would hear?  She would not guess.  She would wait for the conference to unfold and at some subsequent period of time, perhaps in no longer than an instant, she would experience an epiphany, an intellectual, spiritual or emotional awakening that would make the ordeal of getting dressed and bundled into a car, worth the collective effort it took.
      After being wheeled to the front of the stage, and as she was being presented with the award, Lois waved to the crowd. She smiled, then closed her eyes as she thought back to being a little girl.  She thought back to the first day she could remember being in a library and the first day she had received her own library card.  She was six, and it was, up until that moment, the happiest day of her life.  Better days would follow, but the idea that books could be borrowed, read and returned at no cost to the reader astonished her then as it astonished her still.  She opened her eyes and glowed as she thought of it. The crowd misunderstood,  thinking she was responding to the kind words the speaker was saying about her. In fact, she had not heard a word of the flattery. She was too old for it.  When she realized he was still talking, Lois slipped back into her memories, some exquisitely beautiful and some incredibly painful.
     When the speaker had finished, the plaque was gently placed in her lap, and Lois winced, jolted back from a horrible memory.  Again, the crowd misunderstood and the speaker apologized. Lois waved her hand as if to say that the plaque had not caused her the pain expressed on her face. 
     She signaled for the microphone.  As her grandson held the mic in front of her mouth, the crowd became very still, collectively convinced the frail looking woman in front of them would have difficulty mustering the strength to speak. In fact, Lois did start off with a cough, but her voice became steadily louder as she addressed the crowd, almost in a stream of consciousness.  "Thank you all so much for coming.  Thank you for the nice plaque. I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but thank you." The crowd laughed.  
     Lois scanned the room before continuing. "It seems sort of a shame to spend any money on it. After all, I don't know how long I'll be around to look at it." Again the crowd laughed, some a bit nervously. Lois tried to put them all at ease. "It's okay to laugh, folks.  To be honest, when I got the invitation in the mail last month, I thought the organizers were being overly optimistic."  She paused and the crowd laughed again."But I made it, and I'm here. I...I ...I thought I might tell you all the story about how close this moment came to never happening at all, but..." 
     She coughed and seemed to choke up a bit, as if she were about to cry at the memory. Many in the audience shifted in their seats, uncomfortable.  Lois realized this and recovered.  To put them at ease, she cut herself off and instead said,  "but there are a lot of great presenters and displays at this conference and  not enough time to see it all.  So I want you to go learn something you can bring back to your libraries." People applauded as if to help Lois gracefully end her speech.  As people stood to applaud, some people began to file out.  
     But Lois wasn't quite done. "On the other hand," she resumed, "I'm going to have my grandson, Eddy, here, wheel me over to that table." She reached out her right hand and shakily pointed in the direction of a long white table on the right of the stage where she had requested one to be placed. "If anyone would like to come over and talk to me, I'd appreciate it.  Because while many of you know why you're here today, or you think you know, I have no idea why I'm here, and I'm dying to find out.  So if one or more of you could tell me, I'd appreciate it.  Thank you."
     With that, what remained of the assembled crowd burst into laughter and applause, many convinced Lois's brain was muddled.
     After Eddie brought her over to the table, a number of people lined up to speak to her.  Some came over to congratulate her and thank her for her many years of public service.  Lois was polite but short with them.  She knew her time and energy was limited and she was excited to learn the reason or reasons she had come. After the third person had congratulated her and she began yawning, Eddie bent down and asked her if she wanted to go home.  Lois said to him fiercely,  "Look at all these people, Eddie, someone's got something to tell me. I know it!"
     And then X appeared and held out her hand.  Lois took it, and looked the woman in the eye.  The beginning of why she had come was about to be revealed to her.