Throwback Thursday

I'm a lot like my mum. People have always said that. And I take great pride in it.

I remember those late evenings when my dad would come home from church, maybe from a tough church board meeting or from Sabbath evening service, after preaching three sermons that day. And he would go straight to his room, read news, and just be. My mum would be in the kitchen and she would warm up some food or maybe fry an egg, make some tea, put the food on a plate, and take it to my dad who'd be sitting and reading news in their bedroom. And I never understood it. Often I was like, 'Oh, come on, mum, why do you have to do this? If he really was hungry, he would find his way to the kitchen himself, why do you need to serve him like that?' And she would shake her head and look at me and say, 'I hope you'll understand it one day, Mervi.' Well, I sure didn't understand it back then. I didn't even try.

Yesterday evening I made toast, put some cheese and fish on it, cut a piece of strawberry cake, put it all on a plate, made some hot chocolate, and took it all to my father who was sitting in his room and playing chess on his computer.

And one day my mister husband will come home after a rough day at work (maybe from a church board meeting too, who knows). And I'll put some food on a plate and take it to him, and one of my children would watch it, bewildered. And he/she would be like, 'Oh, mum, that's so 19th century, why on earth do you need to fix the dinner for dad, he's a grown-up and could do it all himself.' And I'd look at him/her and shake my head and be like, 'Oh, kids, what do you know about life? What do you know about love? I hope you'll get it one day.'

And then I'll probably add, 'I wish you had known your grandmother. She knew a thing or two about love. And she taught me, too. Maybe even more than she ever knew.'