Tag Archives: Percolating

The Valuelessness of Tradition

I’ve been bombarded with the thoughts of tradition
Creating them
Breaking them
Learning from  and annoyed by them
Why must it go this way?
I’ve been creating new family traditions
I’ve been upholding old family traditions
I’ve been eschewing bad family traditions
Why must I choose this way?
Choice or culture
Why do you act that way?
Fearful and irrational
Is this the tradition today?


Grandma’s Way Pt 3


I practically floated home on the strange idea, or hope rather, that I would somehow be whisked into her window to the kitchen table, where magic would ensue. I would sit there like a seven-year-old, and my legs would swing from the chair as Grandma would make me something sweet and smelling like happiness.

No such luck on the way home.

She was there, and I walked by her window slowly. Not so slow I would look like an idiot or a stalker or anything, but with something of a smooth gait, where I could keep an eye on my surroundings, but still watch her. She didn’t disappoint. She rested regally in the sunset with her beautiful colored clothes, matching head wrap and cup of something. “Hi Grandma,” I said to myself. She didn’t hear me. She didn’t look at me. I passed her window and went on down the block.

I felt like I’d lost something.

But then my stomach gurgled, and I decided that curry was better than a dream dinner. I picked up some takeout and carried my extra bag of food with my smart purse and heels and took myself home to my apartment. Once I donned my house clothes and sat down to eat, I almost forgot about the hopeful dream and the question. I put the first bite of curry in my mouth and chewed. Normally it would bite back and sweetly burn all the way down to my toes. Tonight it tasted lost. Bland. A few more bites and I put away the container. The wind-down wine tasted like watery juice, and no warm fuzzy feeling followed after my third sip. It hadn’t gone off, but it didn’t do what it normally did for me. Maybe I was coming down with something.

My AC cut on, and I realized I wasn’t hot. No sense in running up the bill. I shut it off and tried to watch TV. I found myself dozing off almost as soon as I picked a channel. So I let myself. The front room was cooler anyway. It was Summer, after all. I was grown, and I could sleep on my couch if I wanted to.

Grandma waited for me at the door of my dreams. “I guess it is you,” she said. “Well, come on in. We have a lot to talk about, and you don’t have much time.”