[0263] homage

Her skin always smells like rose scented soap and a tinge of pipe tobacco. The bun atop her head rests in the same angle from morning to evening to night. The bangs that cascade around her forehead rest in that familiar way, slightly twirled at the ends. She prefers to wear linen and lawn, and she prefers not to be confined. Her hands are calloused from her labor of love in the kitchen; she says she's her best self when she's cooking. For the people she loves unconditionally, the word no has never existed in her vocabulary. To her the answer is always, undoubtedly a yes. She makes everything she does look effortless, as though it were a mere afterthought in her mind. Her stories paint vivid, dazzling images in the minds of listeners. She laughs from the deep recesses of her belly. Everything about her has been constant since I can remember. Her aura and spirit are unmatched and unchanged. No travesty or misfortune deters her, breaks her, or crushes her. She is a phoenix. She rises to every challenge, her fiery temperament has passed down to her children and their children. She is my Grandmother. My Nani Jaan. It is her voice inside my head that tells me to strive for more, as a woman and as a human being. It is from her that I learned how to define loyalty and passion and how to stand up for my convictions. Her life will forever be the benchmark to which I compare my own.