Here's to Grandmas
Blog posts: 27
My grandma is the cutest and most stubborn person on earth. And I'm on the receiving end of her knitted socks. They are not just socks, they are kind of the ultimate expression of love.
They convey things words never could, they mean something. When my boyfriend of many years got his very first pair, it meant something as well.
I love my grandma with all my heart, but discussing with her feels like running into a brick wall. Every single time.
“You don't eat meat? That's not healthy.”
“Well, Oma, that's a myth of the meat industry.”
“But you do eat chicken, don't you?”
“Uh, that's meat as well.”
It took her a long time to accept that even fish qualifies as meat, and every once in a while she shrugs desperately, wondering how things could have gone so wrong with me since I grew up in a “normal” family. And even though I'm always one for open discussions, it has proven wise to keep my mouth shut from time to time. About eggs and butter, for example, and about her family recipes for Christmas cookies.
But what do I do about the socks? A few years ago, she has even started the production of little knitted iPod and iPhone cases – too cute for words, but, still, wool... And, no, wool production is neither good nor natural for the sheep. But refusing her socks is like refusing a very special kind of love... I guess I have no other choice but nudging her ever so gently in the direction of pure cotton wool. Preferably without her noticing my motives because... did I mention her stubbornness?
“Annika, we always had a pig.”
“Which you tended lovingly in your backyard because surviving the winter depended on it. You cannot compare that to thousands of pigs locked away in an anonymous system of killing.”
“Well... you're right.”
Lifting my head, pricking up my ears. Right? Me? In this age-old discussion between the two of us? Wow, maybe there's hope for the socks after all...