I read an article the other day, someone detailing the pro’s and con’s of going home, and it got me thinking about – my previous life abroad where the town I grew up in no longer exists and the only thing I am left with is the memories of…
- Living in the top apartment of a 5-story walk up, and the daily bolt and race down the stairs with my brother, and then the counting the steps going back up game we played.
- Rolling and putting away the area rugs in the summer months, exposing the tiles to help cool down the house naturally.
- Washing the floors every Friday morning, mostly my mother, while my brother and I played, splashing around barefoot from room to room.
- The women in the family getting together every Autumn to sun-dry tomatoes, and other vegetables to be used during the harsh winter months.
- Visiting with the extended families, or walking to the central park to meet them in an outdoor garden cafe, where we hung out for hours talking and laughing.
- Train trips to coastal towns for the hot August month.
- Listening to midnight Christmas Eve mass from afar on the radio, while doing our best not to fall asleep in our parent’s labs.
- Going to the farmer’s market with my father and picking out fruits and even prime-cut meets. Mostly lamb for all of our home-cooked meals.
- Walking everywhere
- Experiencing Easter Week celebrations and the smell of spiced bread made specially for the occasion.
- Innocent youthful games, like playing hopscotch, jumping rope, and football-soccer with the kids from the neighborhood.
- In a summer cabin, sleeping inside a mosquito netting I always imagined was my princess bed.
- How cuts and bruises were left to heal themselves or homemade remedies were used to ward off the rest.
- Visits with my grandparents, where the highlight of the day was that if we took our mid-day naps, we would get a treat-a bottle of Pepsi Cola. 🙂
- New Year’s Eve was always spent with family.
- Agreements were based on handshakes. I learned when I asked my father once why every conversation ended with a handshake.
- The days my father and I went shopping for a gift for my mother – in the Jewelry district – where he custom-ordered something for her.
- The smell of home-made apricot jam, pistachio desserts, and orange blossom water.
Where in the world do you come from?