Tags
Adventure, Art, Challenge, Gran, Grandma, Grandmother., Inspiration, Melbourne, Mum, Nanna, Writing, Writing101, Yaya, Yiayia
When I sit out the front of our house, on the verandah, with my legs pushed through the gaps, my feet don’t touch the ground. Mum has a flower garden in front of the house – she likes it to look nice for people who walk past. Depending on where I sit, I can scrunch the leaves of her bushes between my toes. She doesn’t like me doing that, but sometimes I do it when I’m not thinking about it. It’s not really my fault you know.
There’s a little old lady who lives across the street, Mum says she’s a Yaya, she said that’s what a Nanna is called when she’s Greek. I don’t think she looks any different from my Nanna, so I don’t really understand why she’s called a Yaya. She’s lived in that house since before I can even remember. Sometimes she has her grandchildren over to play. I don’t like to play with them though, they’re a bit younger and I feel weird going over there, they yell a lot and always throw their balls over the fence, it’s really annoying. Mum says it’s because I’m shy, but I just don’t like going to other people’s houses that I don’t know. Anyway, there’s a big truck outside her house today. It’s full of all sorts of weird stuff, boxes mostly, that they’ve been putting in her house. I asked Mum what was happening, she said she didn’t know but that maybe her daughter was moving in with her. She also said that meant that the kids who come to stay will be living there now and that I should make friends with them. But I don’t think I will.
The men in the truck are standing around a tall piano that they have rolled out of the truck. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying but seem to be saying it really loudly, and waving their hands at each other like they’re mad. The Yaya has just come out of her house and she looks really tired. She is talking to the men with the piano, they’re waving their hands at her too but they’re being a lot more calm now. Maybe you can’t yell at a Yaya like you can’t be rude to a Nanna.
My feet are a bit itchy, so I rub them on the boards. It’s really nice on the verandah out here in the school holidays. Mum takes the day off sometimes when it’s holidays and spends it with me, and sometimes I go stay with my Nanna. Sometimes my Gran comes to visit us too, that’s my Dad’s mum. She doesn’t come very often because my Dad died and it makes her sad to see me I think. I don’t really know. That’s what Mum said anyway.
Mum’s going over to see the Yaya to see if she needs anything. I don’t know what she would need, she’s got two men from the truck to help her unpack and three kids and a grown-up daughter, but she said it was polite. It seems weird to me. She wanted me to go over there too, but I told her I didn’t want to. I watch Mum until she does inside the Yaya’s house, then I start squishing the leaves with my toes. She won’t know, I’ll only do the leaves at the back.
Fleur Blüm 