When I think of my grandmother, my mums mum, I feel.. I giggle. She was a funny old lady, with a lot of excess skin on her arms. The arm skin, hanging down from her small bones was so soft. It felt like a plastic bag filled with water. I loved to touch that. The skin. Her skin. I couldn’t speak her language, but we still talked. When I think of my grandmother I think of a young child in an old persons body. She has brought a lot of sweet and sour into this world. Our world. A lot of fun, and a lot of… struggles. She did the best she could, with the cards she was dealt, and my mum has learnt a lot about how not to raise children, thanks to my grandmother. She was probably the beginning to some kind of restlessness in many of us women, generations below her. But without our struggles we wouldn’t be where we are today. We have all turned our restlessness into something beautiful, and meaningful. Something peaceful.
I would like to thank her, thank you, for bringing the craziness into our world. Our Kivinen-Ponkala- Universe. If it wasn’t for you we would maybe be…normal. Average. I love you, my grandmother because in one way or another I know that you gave a little bit of your excess
arm-skin and put it on our noses.
Now, finally, she can get some peace of mind, like she was longing for, and forever “bring trouble to the graveyard”. All she wanted was to get back with my grandfather to and argue with him, again. So graveyard and grandfather; here comes trouble, in its most beautiful form. Liisa-mummi. <3