My Babushka Lisa. Her eyes are green, always wide, wide open. Her hair is dark, almost black and short. Her lips are always in a tiny, calm smile. She is my grandma, my babushka.
My babushka always sings. And works. All the time wiping the tables, cooking some tasty food, never stopping.
My babushka would always talk to everyone. She is passionate about people, about the news, in fact, always complaining about the news. And fighting. Fighting for her rights to cross the street in St. Petersburg when all the cars ride on an enormous speedway, my babushka would just show them her fist.
When I got into university in England, my babushka wrote me a huge fax saying how proud she is of me. I wish I had saved this fax, I hope I have, I don’t remember the exact words of it, but I remember the feeling of having made her proud.
My babushka took me often to see the animals in the zoo, reminding to take it easy, when so often I was so worried about succeeding in my next challenge I had set to myself.
My babushka loved me when I was little, when I was sick, when I was sad, desperate, I knew, my babushka is there for me. My babushka would be quite protective of me which made me often want to break free of her love as I grew older.
My babushka would always remind me, when I was all alone and feeling insecure or unwell, that I am loved.
Now it’s been almost four years since my babushka all of a sudden slept away. She said she’ll run to an operation, as she would always said she’d run everywhere, never taking care of herself but always just of her loved ones. My babushka would make everyone make love, so sadly she just forgot to love herself.
I miss my babushka so much, but it’s only her physical presence that has left me. Her love is still surrounding me everywhere I go. I was and I’m always loved.
My Babushka Lisa is written by Maria Kivinen.
Maria Kivinen is a Finnish-Russian born artist traveling around the World spreading Nordic stories.