“Oh Miss Sofia! Come help me with this laundry!” a melodic voice sang from the bathroom across the kitchen. 

My eyes bolted up from the novel my eight-year-old self was so diligently writing and I eagerly replied, “Coming, Yiayia!”

I placed my purple marker on the wooden table and burst out of my seat to run to my grandma’s request. According to my grandma, it was the perfect writing utensil for a distinguished novel. This journey required some laborious parkour because my yiayia was a notable hoarder and kept almost every item that crossed her path. Old, miscellaneous socks with no match? She kept it. Broken organ that no family member knew how to play? She kept it. Scratched up 80s vinyl’s with no vinyl player to accompany it? She kept it. I raced through the maze of boxes and bags covering the kitchen floor and entered the bathroom with anticipatory excitement. 

“Are you ready to fold some sóvrako (underpants in Greek)?” my grandma exclaimed with a goofy smile spread across her red-lined lips.

“Yes, Yiayia!” I immediately responded as I grabbed some white underpants and began my work as my grandma’s loyal assistant. We folded laundry in the floral wallpaper-lined bathroom while my grandma sang sweet songs and I attempted to match the angelic rhythm in her voice. I, of course, could never match the near-perfect singing she had achieved as one of the leading members of our church’s choir. As she served in the choir for fifty years, it was common for church members to comment on my grandma’s angelic voice. 

After completing our mini bathroom concert, I returned to the kitchen to continue my novel-writing with the help of my grandma. My yiayia loved writing short stories, and the plethora of works she would write in her life began with the books she wrote for each of her four grandchildren when they were born. Each story reflected the hopes and dreams she had for each child. My grandma shared her love of literature and writing with me throughout my childhood and many works of my own were published in “Yiayia Carol’s Publication Company”. My grandma often claimed God had given her writing skills to compensate for her lack of drawing abilities. One of her favorite stories to tell to portray this ability was of when my mother was a child and she asked my grandma to help her draw an animal for a school project. My grandma attempted to draw a dog and presented it to my mother, who thought it was a giraffe! I, on the other hand, loved to draw – though I was not especially good – and my grandma and I worked as a dynamic duo to create the most intriguing novels. 

After a few hours of determined story-writing and graphic design—with a short break in between to watch my grandma’s favorite show, Grey’s Anatomy, we had completed our book. 

“Carol! Sofula! Time for dinner!” my grandpa bellowed from the kitchen as the smell of orange spice wafted through the house. My grandpa walked over to our story-writing station and smiled at our finished work. His smile traveled to meet my grandma’s and they exchanged a loving glance. These types of glances were a common happening between my grandparents, and I can definitively say that there were no two people on earth who loved each other more. Since high school, my grandparents maintained a caring, virtually conflict-free relationship for over sixty years — an example of true love that they would pass on to their children and grandchildren. 

“What’s your book called?” my papou asked through his beaming smile.

“Why Grandparents Are the Best!” I happily responded, mirroring the smiles displayed on both my grandparents’ faces with my own. 

Days like these failed to fall short throughout my childhood, and I am beyond grateful for the memorable days I was able to spend with my grandma during her time on earth. My grandma passed away this January, and I hope to carry on the legacy of her comical hoarding, sweet singing voice, beautiful writing skills (and not-so-beautiful drawing skills), and unceasing love for all throughout my life.