meet my surrogate grandmother. she’s not really a grandmother so much as an old lady friend of mine, but when my parents first came to america she was the one who taught them english and helped them learn how to survive in a country where they didn’t have a penny in their pockets to spend. in an act of gratitude, my mom raised me and my brothers all up to refer to her as “grandma,” which we think of her as to this day. grandma was my santa claus during my childhood; my family has never been big on giving presents but she faithfully fed-exed a package to us every christmas. most of the time, what she gave us was for children much younger than we were – for christmas last year, i remember finding a “barbie in china” waiting at my doorstep when i got home. i’ve never really minded, since overall it’s the thought that counts.

grandma sends me emails every week regarding things she finds interesting. because of her, i know what it’s like to live through a western rhode island winter; i hear about aurora borealises (sp?) from fifteen years back; i always have a story about her sister’s journalism days to read when i log onto the computer. this week, she sent me photos from my birth so that i’d know she was there then too. despite the fact that she’s been doing teaching and volunteer work in various countries, she’s always found the time to send me a quick little something or two. she’s 80+, her son is spending the first half of his adulthood in an alcohol rehabilitation center, she’s probably much busier than i the stressed out high school student am, and yet she always makes sure to let me know that she has time for me, whom she hasn’t seen since i was two.

i don’t think i’ve responded to a single email in over a year now. i’m not sure why.