“Wisconsin, huh?” this seems to be the general reaction of people when I tell them that’s where I’m going. It’s hard to explain. I must seem crazy leaving the bustling city of Brooklyn to go to a place that is only known for their beer and cheese and, not to mention, is brutally cold in the winter. But what’s really crazy is the fact that I’ll be living with my grandparents.
How do I even begin to describe my grandparents? Because saying that they are nutty would be an understatement. They are the kind of people that go to a restaurant and request water with no ice. And if the waiter looks somewhat ethnic my grandpa will repeat himself by saying “N-O I-C-E.” They will then proceed by asking every ingredient used in their menu and if they are not pleased with what they hear, they might even take out their own, homemade gluten free sandwiches and share a bag of lettuce (this really happened once).
I’ve visited my grandparents in Wisconsin every summer for as long as I can remember. I can vividly recall a couple summers back when we had dinner at the Cheesecake factory. “If you order the fettuccine alfredo then you can’t order cheesecake for desert” my grandma justified– I was in the state of cheese and was not allowed to eat cheese? The irony in her response infuriated me.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve woken up to health articles placed strategically on the night stand next to my bed, opened my e-mail to links entitled “POOR EATING CHOICES”, and undoubtedly get lectured at every meal about how I should eat more like my grandparents (aka kale and maybe a piece of fruit for desert if you’re really lucky). But I’ve learned to appreciate their histrionic behavior and neurotic attempts to make me a cheese-free individual.
So here I am, packing my stuff in a duffel (that I’ve only ever used for camp) to go live with my crazy grandparents (who I love dearly). People from all over the world flock to New York and yet its magical essence no longer phases me. For so long I’ve been concerned with where I will end up in life but what I’ve failed to realize is that the journey of getting there is just as important as where you eventually end up. And going to Wisconsin is the first step to my journey. Thankfully there is a coffeehouse down the block from my grandparents so I will spend most my time there writing the great and mighty tales of sarahgurl.