Sticky fingers wiped the last of what remained in the small Tupperware box and my eyes opened after enjoying the delicious trance of the jackfruit jam, made by the Masterchef, ammamma. Ah, Ammamma, I missed her so much! She was what I always looked for in my grandmothers, found it partly and satiated my thirst with the portion of love I had; if I were to describe her, I would say she's motherly and cute. A small frame and wrinkled hands that possessed the taste of heaven and a smile full of love that was proud of me.
She wasn't my own grandmother but she took care of me like I was her grandchild; a bond stronger than a lifetime formed in a fast two weeks. The reason I say fast is that it was unfairly quick, too much of a good thing is bad they say and hence with much ado, I said goodbye to her.
It was vacation time and a big milestone in my life was completed, I wanted to squander all my days for which I found a place to do at her home; late nights and later mornings but she had no complaints, every morning she'd come with a warm cup of bournvita and greet cheerfully, sweeter than a morning with birds chirping. I received so much of warmth from her but hardly any of it was verbal; Ammamma spoke Malayalam with a dab of English but we never really needed these material mediums to build upon our relationship.
Speaking of material objects, we have recently developed small storage cards that can hold enormous amounts of data but it isn't new, we always have certain objects that store infinite memories of a dear one; I have a silver bracelet which, in each twist, stores the essence of Ammamma.
She wasn't my own grandmother but she took care of me like I was her grandchild; a bond stronger than a lifetime formed in a fast two weeks. The reason I say fast is that it was unfairly quick, too much of a good thing is bad they say and hence with much ado, I said goodbye to her.
It was vacation time and a big milestone in my life was completed, I wanted to squander all my days for which I found a place to do at her home; late nights and later mornings but she had no complaints, every morning she'd come with a warm cup of bournvita and greet cheerfully, sweeter than a morning with birds chirping. I received so much of warmth from her but hardly any of it was verbal; Ammamma spoke Malayalam with a dab of English but we never really needed these material mediums to build upon our relationship.
Speaking of material objects, we have recently developed small storage cards that can hold enormous amounts of data but it isn't new, we always have certain objects that store infinite memories of a dear one; I have a silver bracelet which, in each twist, stores the essence of Ammamma.
