Family
How My 20-Something Grandchild Changed My Life
What it's really like to have her as a roommate.
Janie Emaus with her granddaughter.
Courtesy Janie Emaus
As I opened my front door, I heard the voices.
“I see you 10 and raise you 20. I call that. She’s bluffing.”
After a quiet evening with friends, I was bombarded with the laughter and shouts of my granddaughter and a crowded table of her 20-something friends playing what appeared to be a very heated poker game.
“Hey, Grandma.” Several players waved at me. “Do you want to play?”
I shook my head. I actually wanted more than to play. I wanted to travel back in time and join them. Not that I’ve had a bad life. Quite the contrary. But their youthful energy reminded me of how easy it was to roll out of bed after an all-night party and slip into a pair of jeans without having to sit down.
Despite their pleadings, I declined the offer to “buy in,” poured myself a glass of wine and retreated to my room. From the comforts of my bed, I listened. Voices were raised as well as the stakes. Ice clinked into glasses.
I reflected on the past year, thankful to have my 23-year-old granddaughter as a roommate.
She had been experiencing financial difficulties. After the passing of both my mother and husband, I had been experiencing an emptiness with an endless depth.
It made sense for us to live together.
She moved in while I was in Thailand and began rearranging the furniture. This I knew from her Instagram posts. At first glance, I saw artwork I didn’t recognize and a couch in a new location. I wasn’t sure it was my living room. I had been used to the wheelchairs, oxygen tanks and hospital beds.
Her redecorating made our home feel different from the one I had left.
Of course, there were some adjustments to be made. Not only does my granddaughter own enough clothes and makeup to open her own boutique, but she also arrived with her feline friends: one calm two-year-old cat and one very manic kitten.
As we near six months of living together, we’ve worked out the kinks. Her wardrobe starts in her bedroom closet and travels by clothing racks into my office, with a side trip into the hallway.
The cats have bonded somewhat with my 11-year-old lab, who I know they refer to as “The Big Black Dog.” Taking a cue from my granddaughter and myself, the pets give each other space and respect. And try not to annoy one another.
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My granddaughter is a very well read, intelligent and outspoken young woman. And, as I was at her age, very idealistic. Sometimes I feel as if she’s teaching me about the history I lived through as my memory is not as sharp as it used to be. Or perhaps, when you’ve lived through the history your grandchild is now studying, it gives you a different perspective.
Times are tough these days, and she’s often worried about the future. But I have lived through scary times and survived.
When I was her age, phones were connected to walls by long cords, margarine was good for your heart, and cash was king. Her life is going to change a million times in the next five decades.
As I watch her go through angst, emotions, and desires, I ache to tell her to calm down, that in 50 years from now, it won’t matter if her best friend ruined her favorite blouse or if she embarrassed herself in a roomful of strangers.
And that boy that she’s crying over, well, I could tell her, he wasn’t good enough anyway. But she won’t listen any more than I listened to my mother and grandmother.
So, instead I offer a shoulder to cry on, ears to listen and arms to comfort.
What I can give her is practical advice such as how to BBQ chicken, remove red wine from white pants and how to fix a toilet. Tricks I’ve learned through the years.
And it goes both ways. She’s teaching me about current music, fashion and slang. Keeping up with new trends is keeping me young.
A highlight of having her around is her knowledge of social media. Watching her record a TikTok video reminds me of my youth when I would use a tape recorder and sneak around the house interviewing my family. Nothing makes me happier than to see her dance and sing. Her youthful exuberance has erased the years of caregiving and brought a lightness back into the house.
Like most of us back in the day, she can work eight hours, come home, shower and leave at 9 p.m. for dinner and a movie. I wish her a good time from my horizontal position on the couch.
We inform each other of our whereabouts and if we’re spending the night somewhere other than at home.
I’m sure this isn’t a permanent situation. But for now, it is perfect.
I am helping her save for her future and she’s helping save mine.
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