“He needs to follow our religion, it doesn’t matter what country he comes from”, said her grandmother with light in her eyes.
“Cool”, said Immi in response. Her grandmother’s tone made it seem as if though she were bestowing a great gift. And to a degree, it was a great gift, but if you only knew our main character’s experiences, you would be aware that it didn’t matter the color of skin.
“Grandma”, said Immi “I’ve never met a boy that thinks that my goals and my wishes are worth as much as his. Why is that, do you think?”
Her grandmother let out a sigh that Immi’s ears had met a number of times. It was the same sigh she exhaled every time Immi asked one of her feminist, difficult-to-answer questions.
“Because that is the way that the world works Immi, and you know not everyone is like that. Who knows, you may get lucky! Your choices have been expanded so much by us allowing you to pick someone who is of any nationality.”
Immi looked down at her hands.
“Do you want some juice? I have some cookies. Come, let me feed you something.”
Immi followed her grandmother into the kitchen and folded herself on to a barstool. Her grandmother moved about in that slow, graceful manner of the elderly. She cleaned two glasses and poured guava juice into them. Then, she placed a few sesame seed speckled cookies onto a china plate.
They ate silently with her grandmother watching Immi the entire time. Immi knew that this was enough for the old woman’s tender heart. This was all the love she required. Why didn’t she visit more then? Was it so tasking to sit with her grandmother and be served food? She argued with herself for a few minutes, and realized she should at least attempt conversation.
“Grandma, I think I want to marry rich and that is all”, said Immi.
Her grandmother’s eyes danced and glittered in amusement, and she stifled a laugh as she tried to finish her bite of cookie.
“Any why is that Immi? What about someone who cares about your dreams and desires?”
“I think you’re right in that, I may get lucky . . . but, what if I don’t? I don’t do well alone. I know that. And I want to have kids, maybe they can believe in my dreams, even if I have to wait a few years?”
“I think that sounds like a divine plan Immi. As the eldest granddaughter, I want to at least be alive to see you get married, and you’re so picky! I didn’t have half as many options as you did.”
Immi’s mouth was dry. The sesame seeds left an oily aftertaste in her mouth, but it was her own thinking that had caused the dryness. Her mind had never wandered in to the corridor of waiting on her children to push her in to something significant. Yet, here it was. It had flown out of her mouth and flung itself in the air and made its way in to her grandmother’s ears. And there, the effect of the thought lay nestled in her grandmother’s eyes which were now tearing as she leaned her hand over.
“Immi, we all want you to be happy. But, you just seem so impractical for a girl. You understand don’t you? Bearing children is a gift, and although it may not be as respected as it should be, it is a gift nonetheless. Your children can be your strength if your husband is not.”
Immi nodded slowly. She was still processing.
With decision in her tone she said, “I think you’re right. If you know someone, I would be happy to meet them. Just so long as he is rich. I can at least have some luxuries for myself while I wait on my children to grow up, right?”
Her grandmother laughed unabashedly, “Oh Immi, you vain girl. Of course you can.”