Grandmothers & Goddesses

Meet My Oma

"Mom!" I called as I stomped rain off of my boots onto the mat in front of the door in the foyer. I hustled further in so Karen could get out of the rain as well. I shouted into the house, "Oma! Baba! I'm home!"

Silence greeted me. I shrugged, it wasn't that unusual. I peeled off my bag and hung it up by the door, and then peeled my jacket off and flung it at the coat rack as well. My family's house was always just the right temperature. It was nicely warm now to contrast with the late fall storms. Karen followed suit in taking off her jacket and putting it up while grinning at me. I waved toward the T-intersection created by the stairs to the second floor being right in front of the door and said, "C'mon, we can go see if there is anything to eat in the kitchen."

"Awesome." Karen said with a grin and followed along behind me. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans and hummed softly to herself as we walked.

I smiled to myself at her slightly off key melody. As we passed by the livingroom the temperature dropped suddenly. I felt the tip of my noise begin to frost over. I raised my hand and rubbed over it and glanced nervously toward Karen. I was hoping that she wouldn't notice. A lot of people didn't notice the presence of ghosts. I wasn't so lucky. Karen shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms.

"Burr!" She complained and peered at me. "Did someone leave a window open in there or something?"

"Oh." I said and took the opportunity. I wasn't exactly lying. I was just stretching the truth, probably. I shrugged and continued toward the kitchen, "Maybe. My Oma likes storms, and sometimes will open the windows during them."

That was the truth. Oma Lily loved the rain, it was part of why she agreed to come to the Pacific Northwest with Baba Polly. I ran my hand through my hair and hurried Karen into the kitchen. I didn't want to know what was lingering in the livingroom. Oma Lily would take care of it, or it was one of her servants. I shivered thinking about the ghosts that sometimes "lived" with us.

The kitchen was warm and toasty and smelt like freshly baked baklava. My stomach immediately growled. I rubbed a hand over it and said, "You're going to love this. My Baba makes the best baklava!"

"I can't wait to try it!" Karen with a grin. She went to the small dining table we had in the kitchen and flopped down.

I started rummaging around the kitchen until I found the container of baklava. I opened it up and the smell of it wafted out. My mouth watered and I reached for the sticky looking pastries. Before my fingers even touched the flaky treats my Oma appeared as if from the shadows on the other side of the kitchen and cleared her throat.

Karen shrieked at the sudden appearance and jumped up from the table. She was rambling suddenly, sounding terrified, "Oh my god! I'm so sorry, ma'am! We uh. Marya said it would be okay. I'm sorry we didn't mean anything wrong by my coming over. I thought that- I'm sorry, sorry! So-"

My Oma raised a hand toward Karen. I looked at my German grandmother and blinked at her expression. For a fleeting moment it was like looking into the face of Death. Death was beautiful, but in a terrifying way. Dark hair curling around a pale face that almost seemed to glow. Her features drawn tight and her blue gaze darkened. I wondered what she had been doing. Sometimes my German grandmother became truly terrifying. Sometimes she was Death. What had she been doing to become so cold?

I shivered and the moment passed. My Oma smiled toward Karen and it transformed her face. Suddenly she was warm and welcoming. She tugged off her black gloves and laid them onto the counter top. She gave me a stern look, but one filled with love. Her tone was softly chiding as she said, "mein Liebling Madchen, you know you cannot have those until tomorrow. Would you want to upset your Baba Polly by ruining her baklava, mein Schatzi?"