meeting my maker

For most people meeting their maker would be the conversation they have with God once they die. For me meeting my maker is going to see my grandma once a year in the native land. it’s the strangest thing, shes SHORTER than me, has a lion’s mane for hair like me and is probably the most creative person I know. Its amazing how she can cry and guilt me into doing certain things but without fail, like clockwork it happens every year.

My grandma is the shortest nicest and most intimidating person I know. I am not the kind of person to take orders from anyone. But she has this sick twisted hold over me and I always do as im told. When I first started my trips back to the native land, I would do everything she told. Over time I have learned what I can get away with and what I definitely have to follow: Be polite to old people with no teeth who make fun of me, always wear jewelry, cover my head, sit with my hands placed on my lap and most importantly; if ever invited to someone’s house ALWAYS eat what they offer unless you want to feel grandma’s wrath. My grandma doesn’t find my sense of humor funny, she doesn’t understand what being sarcastic is and she always wishes I was a boy so that she can excuse my temper to people. I know in some twisted way she does love me, but I also so she wishes she could mold me into being the perfect grandchild that does not embarrasses her in front of her sri lankan super religious friends. She also now knows if ever we are “talking loudly and disagreeing with each other” all she has to do is cry, it is not even as if her feeling are hurt, its her way of ending the disagreement without saying im sorry. This seems to be a pattern with the older sri lankan generation.

Over time I think my grandma has realized its just not worth telling me certain things because im as stubborn as a mule and I do not care. But God bless her it does not stop her from trying.