I came home to a lovely surprise a couple of days ago. A letter was waiting for me on the doormat. Handwritten, filled with poetry and love. All the way from my grandma's kitchen table in Belgium to my door in Toronto. I ran up the stairs with a ridiculously big smile on my face, itching to open the envelope and soak up the hugs she sent me. Many of you know I'm a big fan of snail mail. I am that person who sits down and writes letters, seals them with a lipstick kiss and maybe even a breeze of perfume. That's how I communicate, it's what I love to do.
Watching me write in cafes, I catch people in the corner of my eye, smiling at my old fashioned ways. I'm pretty sure I'm on some stranger's instagram, with hashtag oldskool or grandma or dinosaur or something. Because nobody writes letters anymore. Only grandmothers. Right?
For as long as I remember, I've been telling people I can't wait to be a grandma. Honestly, I'm happy to skip the whole motherhood thing and just be a grandmother. Bake cake, drink coffee, talk for hours, play cards, watch old movies, make sure no one will ever be hungry again. It sounds like my kind of heaven. Maybe it's autumn bringing this out in me, but I love cosiness more than anything. Writing letters with a cup of tea and Ella Fitzgerald when skies turn grey is one of my favourite things to do.
I have a couple of friends who share my vision and even though we make wild party plans, we always end up cooking soulfood, opening a bottle of red wine and talking all night until we fall asleep on the couch under a blanket, with empty glasses in our hands. Years ago I suffered from a severe FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) so I could never really let go of the idea 'I should be shaking my booty right now instead of cuddling up in PJ's and discussing life's questions.' Now I love it. No regrets, no denial, I am a grandma at heart an I embrace it.
My love bought me flowers the other day and the lady at the counter actually asked him: are those for your grandma? When he explained they were for his girlfriend the woman started laughing hysterically. 'Those are old lady flowers!' She yelled out. Little did she know that is exactly what I want. To all women who feel the same: be the grandma you are! Own it! To all grandmothers: you rock my world. So much love, wisdom, cosiness and recipes that leave masterchefs puzzled, all in one person.
Who run the world?