People have said I’m mature for my age for as long as I can remember, that I act much older than I am. I’ve always attributed this to my mother doing a good job raising me, or the fact that I’m an only child. Those are the logical explanations. But what if there’s something more at play here? What if it’s not just because of my environment or my personality? What if it’s because….
I’m a secret grandma.
Hear me out. I don’t really believe in the supernatural. I figure if ghosts or werewolves were real, I’d have seen one by now. But I’m telling you, if I was really a grandma cursed to live in the body of a college student, it sure would answer a lot of questions. Let’s break it down.
Reason Number One Why I Might Be a Grandma: I find knitting extremely calming. I do it whenever I get the chance. I don’t know a ton of nineteen-year-olds who knit in their free time, but I also don’t know a lot of UNDERCOVER SECRET GRANDMAS.
Reason Number Two Why I Might Be a Grandma: I love cats. Sometimes I cry about how much I love cats. If I imagine my life in 50 years, I imagine myself surrounded by cats (but not too many because then I couldn’t give them all the love and attention they deserve). Cats are arguably the best part of being alive. There’s nothing like a cat snuggle.
Reason Number Three Why I Might Be a Grandma: I always have a cup of tea before bed. It’s a ritual I rarely skip. Mint, black, chamomile, green, jasmine, you name it. Sitting on the couch with the fire roaring while I sip on a hot bev? Oh, yes, PLEASE.
Reason Number Four Why I Might Be a Grandma: I really don’t like to stay up that late. Most of my friends can stay up until the wee hours of the morning studying or finishing homework or even just watching a movie. My motto is “if it’s not done by 10:30, it’s not getting done.” I feel better if I wake up early and get things done so that I can relax in the evening, read a good book or catch up on the latest episode of a TV show (and drink my nightly tea, of course).
Reason Number Five Why I Might Be a Grandma: I’m the biggest Hugger that has ever existed. If I don’t get at least one hug every day, I get a little misty-eyed. Hugs are so nice, and I also love people quite a lot. I’ve been told that I’m a good hugger, too, due to my miniature stature. My head usually rests right on people’s chests or in their armpit. It’s cozier than it sounds.
These are my main concerns. There are other little things, like my inability to open pickle jars by myself, hating to drive on the highway, making people laugh when I try to dance, and my undying love for large, seasonally themed sweaters. If anyone has any evidence that I am really a seventy-year-old woman trapped in a younger gal’s body, please let me know. This is an increasingly pressing matter, so any input is appreciated.