12 November 2012
I keep the memories, of the yellow wooden house, red roof built, with my grandfather's own arthritic hands
Compactly built, but amply providing, family space for over 60 years, warm and inviting grandmother, welcoming with hot coffee pot.
Coffee aromas, mingling with the wood burning oven, hand chopped logs,painstakingly stored, freshly washed and starched tablecloth, apron tied, with her well worn fingers.
My grandmother, with her ample bosom, hand knitted socks on her swollen feet, snow weathered hair and chattering teeth, stoked fire,warm house and warm heart.
Porridge in the morning, tea bag in a cup, grandfather slurping tea from his saucer, slouched in his rocking chair, fly swat in his grasp, traditions between them,built to last.
Home grown fruit and vegetables, carrots for a home made soup, scrubbed with clean well water, peeling cooked potatoes, with a hand carved knife.
Steaming saunas, sweltering heat, freshly washed bodies. My memories of Finland and my grandparents, to where I now leave, some of my heart.
Finland • Opuss № I