When I was young, my parents lived with my grandparents. When my parents were away, my grandparents would take care of me. I have a vivid picture of my grandmother smiling down at me when I was very small. I can still vividly remember my grandfather teaching me to play cards. I had a close relationship with my grandparents.
Later, due to the change of father's job, the distance between our two families became farther and farther. Later, my grandpa passed away, and my parents asked my grandma to move in with us, but my grandma would rather stay in the old house alone, far away from us.
I was asked by my parents to call her on Sunday nights. I was a horrible student but she would always ask me about school. I felt terrible. Gradually, I found that my common language with my grandmother became less and less. Calling every weekend seemed to be a procedure.
One Sunday, I picked up the phone, slowly dialing the number to her house. All I could think was what we could possibly have a conversation about. Nothing! I didn't think I could have anything in common with someone who is 50 years older than me.
"Your grandmother won't be around forever," my mum said, so I just did what she told me and painfully called my grandmother. What I didn't know was that the phone call would change my opinion on life and my grandmother.
When she answered the phone, I planned to have a small conversation. Instead, she invited me to lunch. Hesitantly, I replied with a "That sounds great".
When I hung up the phone, I immediately regretted agreeing to the lunch date. How was I going to fit this into my busy schedule of homework, games, and friends? It was not my ideal Saturday, but I sucked it up and went anyway. Me and my grandmother... nothing to talk about.
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Surprisingly, my Saturday morning wasn't painful. Ever since that lunch date with my grandmother, we have talked at least once a week. |
