Ha. Not that opa! I looked on Lolcats for an image to use in my post today. In German, opa is a term for grandpa; but popular culture has done it again and created a totally different meaning. And not the one I anticipated – opa is also something one shouts in a Greek restaurant as a toast.
But the cat made me laugh, ergo, he’s today’s maskot.
None of which has anything to do with why I’m writing today! (Pre-coffee and you get me off track. ~grin~) In our short story, “Seeking Hearts,” we feature opa and oma, the main characters grandparents. We had fun with these two, because they’re at an age where they don’t much care what other people think about them and their grandson is old enough to take care of himself. Oma rescues an animal that becomes her pet and opa placidly goes along.
Opa made caffa tea while Oma hummed as she prepared some food. The heady aroma of grains with spices filled Rik’s nose and his stomach growled. He served himself and Marc large bowls and set them on the table.
Rik watched Oma’s hands fly over the cutting board. Her age did not dull her skill with the sharp blade. Cubes of raw meat precisely squared lined up on the edge.
He frowned and gazed at his porridge. Oma did like to experiment with her cooking. He stirred, his spoon searching for odd lumps. Nothing.
“Oma, are we having stew for lunch?”
“No, dearie, it’s much to warm for that. Why?”
“Wondering why you were cutting the meat.”
“Oh, it’s for Rocky.” Her wrinkled face beamed with pleasure. “He knows his name now and even comes when called.”