She lives across the street and that's what we call her, Go. Because that's what her 4 and 5 year old great grand kids, Vanessa and Alex call her. I think it translates to "Grandma". I don't know her real name, I only know what her great grand kids have told me about her. She's 82, has 5 grown children, 4 back in Vietnam, she's lived here for 10 years with her granddaughter's family, and she doesn't like leaving her house. Her hobby is taking care of her bunnies and organizing the recycling. She and I go on walks together with our kids, pick dandelions for her bunnies and sit outside together to watch our kids play. She has in depth conversations with me in Vietnamese, she must not understand that I have no idea what she's say. Yet she still talks. She's happy and laughs a lot.
Yesterday on our walk to the market around the corner, we picked flowers, and I wondered what her life must be like here in America. She doesn't understand the language. She must miss her family. Does she get scared? Does she get lonely? My first thought was that she must understand kindness, because I sure understand it from her. What was she going to buy at the market? I watched her walk around, curious to see what she would pick out.
Want to know what she bought? Cheetos, banana taffy, a chocolate pop sickle for Vanessa. And $10 of lottery tickets. I never would have expected the lottery tickets, she certainly must understand that part of our culture.
We walked home together, picked more dandelions for her bunnies, I grabbed my camera to take her picture, she giggled and smiled the whole time. I just think she is the cutest little lady I know.