Grandmother Roza

Grandmother Roza came from the land of flying carpets, anise-scented nights and minarets stretched down into the shimmering waters where the fish dance.

Grandma Roza spends the mornings with you, while I'm at work. She sings to you and tells you about her life, my childhood and the dinner menu. She takes you to long walks in your stroller. You, like an army commander, yell each time she stops to rest. Even if you are asleep... you wake up and yell. So she walks on.

If you don't feel like going for a walk, Grandma Roza spends hours on a chair, holding you on her chest while you sleep. If she tries to put you in bed, you wake up and yell. So she keeps holding you hours at a time, as you sleep like a lamb.

Grandma Roza taught you to pull your tongue out, which you learned quickly, and practice at every chance. It's on me to find a way to teach you that this is not an appropriate behavior in public. Grandma Roza also changes your diapers and washes your butt in the sink like we do. She smothers your butt with layers of paste, just in case, blaming us for not being able to relate to rash pain which, she claims, adults get too.

Grandma Roza is afraid of cats. She can't leave the room if there is a cat somewhere between her and the door.  The other day she jumped of her chair and almost flipped her plate over because Alcatraz walked in her direction. Very strange, but the point is that staying with two cats is torture for her, and she puts up with it to be with you.