Thalmann

You said:

While eating a pear, memories of my days at my grandfather’s house came to mind. I remember how I would open the gate, and all my relatives would be there, happy—I could really feel their happiness. I spent so many cozy days at my grandparents’ house, and those memories are the best.

I remember when we would visit, my relatives would prepare the floor for us to eat on. We would all gather, eat, and share stories that seemed to never end. I’m crying now, wondering why I don’t carry more of these heartwarming memories that made me so happy. These are the memories I seem to have deleted from my mind to feel worse.

Also, I feel like my neighbors are so strange; it’s hard to understand who is who, honestly. Anyway, back to my grandfather’s house: after a traditional Kyrgyz family dinner, we would all sleep in a big room together—10 to 15 people in one room, with so many blankets and pillows. I remember playing with pillows with my cousins, while our mothers talked until they fell asleep. God, I can’t imagine what they were talking about. Writing about this actually scares me a bit.

My mom was often in opposition within the group, which would make her angry, and others would get offended. In the morning, they would ignore each other while eating the warmest breakfast together, including my grandfather. Then everyone was so busy with such kind activities.

Grandfather would take us to see his old car, a white Volga, I think. We would go around it once or twice and then discuss things about the garden. And then we’d eat again—it was usually roasted potatoes and meat, of course, with the most delicious bread, which just hit the spot. We’d have lots of apples, pears, potatoes, and other smaller treats. And the bread! That was the best takeaway food.

I remember a phrase from the movie “Mirror,” where the main character says, “Words could never accurately articulate the feelings we have.” That’s how I feel about my grandfather’s house—it was my world. After those cozy autumn evenings, we would all go home. I don’t remember how often we visited, but it must have been often because I have these memories. Sadly, this is the only part I can recall.