I grew up hearing my grandparents’ stories of the idyllic Lithuania they remembered from before the War. They fled the country in young adulthood, so their memories are soft and diffuse, like the scalloped-edged photographs in our family albums.
I borrowed one of those albums from my parents today and scanned in some of those old photos. This one, of my maternal grandfather with his father, brothers and sisters on their estate makes me want to jump inside of it. It was taken sometime in the early to mid 1930s, when they couldn’t have known that less than ten years later, they would be separated and their lives forever changed.
Seriously, I want to lie down in that patch of sun-dappled grass right next to that dog and just hang with all of them. I want to eat a plum still warm from their orchard and feel the same breeze that swept through their fields. I may even want to milk a cow.
I know it wasn’t paradise. But it sure looks close, doesn’t it?
This one is of my maternal grandmother’s side of the family on the occasion of my great-great-grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary. I don’t know why more people don’t pose for photos up on the roof.Did you like this? Subscribe to the blog. (It's free!)