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“You see. Neither can I. It is unthinkable. And how we were
crazily in love with each other. We married in secrecy,
against our families’ convictions, and for a few days we had
to stay in hiding.”
My mother was standing at the window and was looking
into the distance. We all heard this episode for the first
time. With time Grandma showed less and less restraint in
revealing details of her life.
“But why am I standing idly?” she pointed to her feet on
the floor. “Why nobody gives me anything to do?” she said
it so convincingly that everybody started looking around
the kitchen for an activity. My father gave her a bowl of
apples to peel and asked with a chuckle: “Ma, are these
apples or oranges?”
“Apples, by definition,” she waved at him with dismissive
humor.
The apples were imperfect, with blemishes, from an
unsprayed garden, but their aroma filled the entire kitchen.
“So tell me…, are you my daughter or my granddaughter?”