Generations

When I was twelve my grandma told me I was a woman – and in six or eight years I would be a wife. She said Sundays would be pasta days, Fridays I’d cook fish – and to keep a net of mothballs in my closets. She told me that linseed oil was good for wood floors and garlic was good for everything. She said I must iron his handkerchiefs and boxer shorts, pillow cases and towels and sheets and shirts and… I was told, “Il mio cuore debe battere per lui, le mie mani devono lavorare per lui e il mio corpo dovrebe portare I suoi figli” – that to be a good wife, (loosely translated), “my hands must work for him, my heart should beat for him, my body would bear his children.” And often, they did, and it did and twice, I did. Now you are twelve, And in six or eight years you’ll fly and soar toward whoever you want to be, whenever you choose the time, wherever you want to go. You’re already on your way! Cook pasta on Tuesdays if you choose. Take-out works too. Swiffer your way across your wooden floors and do not ever use an iron – That’s what dryers are for. Be a wife to someone you love – or not. Share your life and live your life your way. The beauty of following your own path is the power of choice. Love, Grammy