Chapter 38
Grand Island, New York. 2006.
My dad’s best friend was a sweet, funny guy. He and his wife, who was from India, met at the same neighborhood bar where my parents met. I grew up knowing this couple as my Aunt and Uncle. They were fun and welcoming and part of every one of our celebrations. They were part of our family. I especially enjoyed learning about Indian culture, loving to wear colorful saris, eat naan, and learn a few words in Hindi while trying to understand why she fasted on Tuesdays.
Although my uncle was deathly afraid of flying, every few years he would somehow make the twenty-nine hour trip from Toronto to India to visit his wife’s family. Lucky for him and all of us, her family would also periodically come from India to Buffalo.
In the later years of her life, my aunt’s mom came for an extended visit of a few months. During this time, she wanted her mom to experience what it was like to age in America and took her mom to see my grandma who was now close to ninety and living in a nearby nursing home. Although my grandmother was fairly hard of hearing, she was still a great conversationalist when she wanted to be and always welcomed visitors. My aunt wasn’t sure how the interaction would go considering that both moms were up in years, a bit hard of hearing, and hadn’t ever formally met before, not to mention that neither of them spoke a lick of the other’s language.
My aunt and her mom meandered through the hallway of wheelchairs to knock on my grandmother’s door.
“Who is it?” my grandma shouted turning her wheelchair round. “Oh, come on in…” she continued as she backed away from the window and waved them on. When they came closer, she kissed them both on the cheek and offered them a seat.
“Oh… hello… I haven’t seen you two in a while…”
My aunt quickly pulled up a chair and helped her mom get situated before going to the other side of the bed to grab a chair for herself. In motion, she pondered the best way to introduce the two women. But by the time my aunt joined the circle, she realized that the two moms were already off to the races. They were chatting away, happily exchanging words and gestures back and forth, and seemed completely un-phased by that fact that they probably didn’t understand a single word that the other was saying. This joyous conversation went on for close to an hour, and my aunt was hardly able to get a single word in. She couldn’t figure out what they were saying or what they understood. They just kept talking.
Eventually, they said their goodbyes, and my aunt and her mom walked out to the parking lot. In the distance, my grandmother waved out her window, grateful for the visit.
“You know,” said my aunt’s mom very-matter-of-fact in Hindi as they got in the car, “That Mrs. Quinn is so nice...”
“Oh yeah? What were you two talking about the whole time?”
“Well, she just kept telling me again and again how beautiful I am, and I told her how beautiful she is too.”
