"Hussshhh …" Grandma and me, we've got a secret. She clandestinely gives me the attention I need, every night after I got sent to bed. I still see her beautiful face through the banister, I duck, I hide, I skulk, she holds her finger in front of her mouth. Nobody knows I visit her one floor down, each and every night.
I have to creep through the corridor, cross my sibling's rooms and be very quiet. I stop, lurk around the corner. Flickering TV lights, my parents don't exchange a word, strangers are loudly talking in foreign terms. This is the only moment I could be disclosed. The seconds in which I cross the open door to the room my parents are in. They don't care. In all those years, they have never noticed me. I weasel around the corner, open the door to the stairway in a silent swing, while I wiggle around, through the door and close it. Like a ninja. One of the things grandma taught me without ever saying a single word. Her special witchcraft. She made me feel the desire to become good at things. Like with this ritual. If I wanted to have this secret with her, I needed to teach myself how to move invisibly, how to escape from authorities and become my own. Autodidactic & independence is first on the list of things she taught me.
Standing in the darkness, at the tip of the stairways is when it reliably rushes in. A fountain in my belly, bubbling upwards, millions of little lightning striking through my torso, my fingers tingle while I run down the stairs. The excitement of devotion, number two on the list. I am slightly scared by monsters and cutthroats hiding in the dark, grandma is worth all the angst in the world, love is worth fighting monsters. Nobody ever told me that, I lived it every night. My heart tries beating through my chest, reaching out to her as if in a race with the rest of my body. I am pure energy, enlightening the night. Downstairs, I pass a further corridor, before I finally enter the part of the house that smells like home. I dart to the living room, both arms outstretched and jump onto the couch between grandma and grandpa. She smiles at me as if surprised I would visit her. She welcomes me with open arms, I cuddle myself into her soft shelter and she tells me the things a little girl needs to hear and listens to my worries. We're done as soon as she starts smirking. Time for my secret bedtime sweets. She takes my hand and leads me to her pantry. I love this place. It's packed with her wonderworks. Jar over jar, filled with all sorts of fruits from her garden, drowned in her affection for nurturing. Bacon hanging from the ceiling, some salami, cheese – Grandma could bring us all through a catastrophe. This room is her life investment. It's where she hides her sweets also and I can pick from an immense collection. I open my tiny hands and tell her what I want. She puts it into my hands, gently closes them and starts her prayer, with her hands folded over mine. I close my eyes and lean into her cushy voice.
Fourteen angels watch do keep
Two my head are guarding
Two my feet are guiding
Two are on my right hand
Two are on my left hand
Two who warmly cover
Two who o’er me hover
Two to whom ’tis given
To guide my steps to heaven
Sleeping softly, then it seems
Heaven enters in my dreams;
Angels hover round me,
Whisp'ring they have found me;
Two are sweetly singing,
Two are garlands bringing,
Strewing me with roses
As my soul reposes.
God will not forsake me
When dawn, at last, will wake me.»
She told me stories from the bible and read them with me. I learned reading this way. "You don't need to believe in God" she said, knowing my parents wouldn't appreciate her teachings, "but you need to know those stories and you need to know how to pray. And try to remember every number you read in there. And don’t be fooled!" I didn't notice how much she made me learn back then. I recognize it today. Almost every day.
Once I asked her how to bake a bread and she took me for a walk. We went to a farmer nearby and she asked him if I was allowed to pick some wheat from his field. With his permission we roamed through the field and I collected some of it. Back home she told me to search for a stone that perfectly fitted my hand. I found one, she handed me a bowl made from thick stone and showed me how to grind the wheat. I started with excitement, got immediately exhausted and somewhat disappointed when I noticed that this work would take me days. “Good, you found this stone that fits your hand that perfect” is what she said.
"Did you have a fitting stone when you were my age?" I asked her. She shook her head. "No, I wasn't as lucky as you are. There was no time for things like that when I was your age." She told me a lot about these times. How families and neighbors stuck together and supported each other with works like crop, building and renovating houses, taking care of their animals and belongings. Responsibility is what she taught me, leading by example. That there’s joy in hard work and fulfillment in patience along with choosing wisely. Her lessons were spot-on.
I lived in her stories. Every day, dreaming away to a reality where people took care like my grandma took of me. Beside her, nobody in my family made me feel safe. If it wasn't for her, I may have become the narcissist my mother is. It's my grandmother's love and wisdom that made me the person I am today. A big part of it. My beliefs, my faith, my confidence, my trust, my passion, the way I feel connected to mother earth and beings from another realm, at least 18 of them, which is 9, in case no one ever taught you that …
Whatever she taught me, it started from scratch. After we had baked my first bread, more a bun actually, I had to start growing my own wheat for the next bread we were going to bake. The next time I didn’t had to grind it. She showed me her mill and how to use it. She showed me her needles, first, the sewing machine second. Deep understanding and using all your senses were her kind of things, Oma didn’t like superficiality. She made me listen to nature, see and admire the little things, talk to animals and plants, she sang traditional songs for me that taught me about a long, lost culture I learned nothing in school about. The roots of this ancient land I stood on. Her gifts were thoughtful in a way, I but today discover. She gave me rose quartz, a necklace with an Aries pendant, a coral necklace, lots of gemstones. I didn’t find them anything else but beautiful, today I understand she choose them to heal and safe me. The education my mother had in mind for me was different. She more cared about a shiny surface. She dragged me into all sorts of different activities I didn’t like. My schedule was packed.
Piano lessons, swimming competitions, playing the flute, giving concerts, riding horses, playing volleyball, tennis, … For her I had to compete a lot. My grandmother freed me from these toxic ways of thinking. She never expected me to be good at anything else than taking care of me. And she loved me, no matter what. She prepared me for a world, she knew I wouldn’t fit in easily and gave me the power to create my own one.
I trust that I will be led.
Two veils are lifting,
Two poles are shifting,
Two worlds splitting,
Two realms knitting,
Two realities meet and turn into one.
Two plants from one seed are being born,
To grow towards the heavenly sky,
Almost touching but just coming nigh.
I can see hands reaching for my soul,
And listen to grandma preaching to a choir.
While I still wander, still reaching beyond.
The choir of angels translating her words,
Into tunes like miracles never been heard.
Two tunes are touching my heart,
Two hands taking me back to the start.
Where the universe begins,
and ends the same time.
Mirroring twins,
Making everything rhyme.
