I caught myself daydreaming today. I had traveled back to the days of my grandma and the happy days of my childhood. The Finnish word “mummi” (which means grandma) is always connected to the word “happiness” in my thoughts. Here I was ringing her doorbell, the type you twist, instead of press. I didn’t have to twist it for long when I began to hear my beloved grandma’s footsteps and her happy voice. “Tullaan, tullaan…” (coming, coming…).
My grandma with her half apron wrapped around her waist greeted me with her usual love and affection. I stomped my red boots to get rid of most of the snow before removing them, my hat, my mittens, my jacket and my handknitted socks. I giggled as I noticed small white balls of snow stuck to my woollen socks. I often enjoyed pulling them off one by one, but not today. There were other days better suited to pulling off white balls stuck to woollen socks. Today was my day with my grandma.
The warmth that I felt as I stepped into her foyer wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Manners and etiquette were important to my grandma, so I knew to hang my outdoor clothes away with care. My grandfather’s shoes were lined up in a row, each with its own stretcher insert. My grandma invited me to come with her to the kitchen. She was checking the oven for her simmering Karelian Stew, while her pulla-dough was rising in a bowl on the kitchen table, the tea-towel trying unsuccessfully to cover the swelling. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking comfortingly in the living room, that same clock that is now ticking away on my wall here in Australia and is still able to give me that same feeling.
Love is stronger than death. No matter how hard death tries, it cannot separate people from love. It cannot take away our memories. You can call it time-travelling or daydreaming, but I would say I visited my grandma’s place today.
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