photo album of our family village house was often nostalgically commented by
many people. They recollected their wonderful childhood moments, spent with
their grandparents in the village. But my past had nothing to do with it. It
was wonderful, but different. I saw in
the cinema, read in books how it could be charming living in a rustic way...
And every weekend me and my family travelled
to the world of non-existing memories. I lived the present and the past
at one and the same time.
Our village grandmother has become our neighbor to us. Our concern has become the garden. Our evenings were warmed by a fire and samogon. The photo album was filled with stories and photographs. And for our girls it was their real childhood.
Time flies and even our village neighbor grandmother was forced to leave the place. For the first time in ten years we didn’t celebrate Christmas in the village. Everything is changing. But now I will know for sure that our girls will have the memories to recollect and I will have mine.