I love my grandma

I love my grandma.

Since I left the United States in the spring of 2006, she has written to me every month, and every month I wait in anticipation, searching my mailbox for her letter.

She tells me about the beautiful sunny weather, the walk she took that morning, her new perm, about going shopping with my aunt and mom. She fills me in on the trips she has taken to visit our family, her work in the garden, how she just bought a new camera.

I come home from a workday filled with multiple languages, sweltering heat, flies, harsh smells, death and suffering...to find an envelope with her familiar handwriting. I settle in as she tells me about baking cookies for the neighbors, and I am comforted.

I remember home.