There are moments in the day when I am reminded of my grandmother who passed years ago. Like when I'm on my knees wiping the kitchen floor. Or when I'm washing the chinese vegetables. Or when I close the door quietly by turning the doorknob before it hits the post to make sure not a sound is heard.
My grandmother watched my siblings and I for about five years when I was in elementary and middle school. She moved from Hong Kong for the only purpose of helping her son and grandchildren. After going back to Hong Kong, I realize what a sacrifice that was to leave a place where you could speak the language, have a social life, and have mobility in traveling. At home, she would get on her knees to wipe the floors to make sure every speck was picked up. Although we have things like swiffer now, I still find myself getting on the floor to check those nooks and crannies. My grandma would soak the vegetables in a tub of water first to make sure all the bugs and stuff floated to the top before rinsing them all. I do that now only because I watched her do it. I close the doors and drawers quietly because my grandmother wanted my parents to sleep in on weekends while my siblings and I got up to watch Saturday morning cartoons. She taught us to be mindful of others.
She has since passed and I wish I could tell her how she impacted me in all the littlest ways. I wish she could see how I am taking care of the home and raising her great grandchild. And ask her how she made that tomato egg dish in only the way she did. Funny how there are some things we don't realize until habit and routine jog memory and heart.
