As a curious girl of five or six and together with a mischievous cousin brother who was a year or two older than me, I would often crept quietly across the wooden floor to where grandma was having an afternoon nap.
The old lady loved to sleep on her hard and square-shaped pillow made from porcelain. Fanning herself slowly with a straw fan in one hand, she would drift off to sleep under the Rediffusion box fixed to the wall.
Afternoons are Chinese-opera and napping times for old ladies.
“Can you see that her feet are so small?” I whispered softly to the young boy giggling beside me.
We gently lifted up her feet and examined them with amused eyes. As little kids, we have no idea why our grandma has a pair of feet as small as ours. It looked strange for an adult to have such small feet. Grandma’s dainty little feet never ceased to amaze both of us.
My cousin brother slowly put her feet to his nose and I followed suit. Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! We were almost thrown off by the smell. Her small feet smell like salted fish!
Grandma’s feet brought her a lot of pain and tears but pride too. You can read my book to find out how it was to grow up under the care of an old lady who walked with a pair of dainty little feet in my book, “The Stories of the Scissors Sharpener’s Daughter.”
To be continued…..