Sunday 11/28/210

I went home in June and visited a few other places, I found myself in that old house that has been a restoration  project since 1979, I had not even been born then. Inside what used to be one of the estate's small libraries I found his name carved on the bottom of a book shelf where beside it there was a book Egypt, typical of a child's interest. It brought me closer to my grandfather, I used to read mummy books and pyramid books when I was ten years old, under an orange tree with one of my dogs I would dream of great adventures in Egypt as I read each page. I can see him before the world fell apart in 1935, when he had only been ten years old, at home before or after his tutoring lesson, hiding in the library and reading books that took him away from the boredom of being an only child.
As I walked through that old house, I took photo of the staircases and some of the ceilings my great-great grandmother had restored in the early nineteenth century. When I was child I was told by an aunt that the past was beautiful and sorrowful thing, her eyes always filled with tears when she said that, she suddenly went from being in the garden with me  to being far away, she was born in Vienna, 1914. I only spent four days there this summer, I keep planning to return and live there for a while and start the restoration process, it's a project in the making I have to say.
In 1998 after we had just moved back to the U.S. I was only thirteen and in a new place again , things seemed to change, Chicago of all places. I missed the smell of the rain as it hit the dirt in that old road near our house. Rolling hills lush with vines and pastures with horses, and people I knew. I hate apartment living, but as it goes, big city small spaces. For a couple of years I was entertained and learning a new language , getting used to my surroundings that I forgot the memories I carried from childhood. For a while you sort of forget yourself and the midst of your new surroundings, as humans we want to fit in and adjust.