My grandmother was married off very young and had kids shortly after. I often think about how she hasn’t experienced life much on her own. And yet, she’s lived decades more than me.

Every time I watch her cooking, draping a sari, doing her hair. Give her whatever fruit you want and she knows exactly how to cut it open and feed it to you. I think about how she’s done this thousands of more times than I have. These movements live in her bones now, pure muscle memory. I always watch her hands. 

And then I feel guilty for thinking I know more than her just because I’m a working woman in America with a college-education, luckily unmarried, no kids. Even though I get to live a freer, more selfish life, she’s still lived a thousand lifetimes. I know nothing about this world compared to her. She doesn’t rely on Googling things like I do when I’m unsure. When it comes to living, she just knows. I hope one day I am as good at life as she is.