In the corner of my grandmother's kitchen, there is an old wooden radio that has been there for as long as I can remember. It's large and heavy, with two round dials on the front and a speaker covered in brown cloth. My grandmother refuses to replace it, even though my parents have offered to buy her a modern one several times. She says it still works perfectly, and I suppose she's right.
The radio was a wedding gift from my grandfather, who passed away before I was born. My grandmother once told me that when she was a young wife, the radio was her closest companion during the long afternoons while my grandfather was away at work. She would listen to music, cooking programmes, and the afternoon news while she prepared dinner. Over the years, the habit never changed.
Even now, the first thing she does every morning is switch on the radio while she makes coffee. She doesn't choose a particular station — she simply turns the dial until she finds something she likes. Sometimes it's classical music, sometimes a chat show, sometimes the weather forecast. She says she prefers the radio to television because with the radio, she can move around the house and still listen, whereas the television forces you to sit in one place.
I used to think it was a bit old-fashioned, but recently I've started to understand why she loves it so much. Last month I was studying for my exams at her house and she had the radio on quietly in the background. Instead of being a distraction, it actually helped me concentrate. There was something comforting about the low sound of voices and music filling the room. It made the house feel alive.
I still don't think I'll ever give up my headphones and playlists. But I no longer laugh when my grandmother turns on her old radio. I think I finally understand what it means to her.