My dear grandma,

A gastroenterologist,

Taught me from childhood

How not to be foolish.

Not to become a mom too soon,

Not to end up serving spoons,

Not a hairdresser or a driver,

Not a lumberjack or a fighter

Better off in IT,

Maybe law would suit me,

Or finance, nice and neat,

Some expert, elite.

In my head, her voice repeats,

The lesson she made complete:

First a student, sharp and keen,

Then a teen in-between.

Later grown and self-aware,

Trying life with some flair.

Dancing here and there a bit,

But no rush to commit.

Life is not a button press,

Planning wisely is success.

Planning wisely is success.

In my head, her voice repeats,

The lesson she made complete.

Held onto it all my days,

What a twist—life’s funny ways.

Never became a mother,

Nor a grandma like no other.

I'm a scholar, bright and proud,

A linguist, known around.

That I stuck to grandma’s plea,

Her wise words faithfully,

I ruined life entirely.

Took her words to heart, you see,

Life is now a melody—tra-la-la.

Tra-la-la

Tra-la-la