this is a picture of where my Mom was born. My grandpa had this mill. My mother had one brother … my uncle Arne … and four half siblings. She would have had one more brother, but he drowned in that stream. He was three.
I don’t know for how long they lived there. I do know that they moved a couple of times, but I have no idea where, when or how.
This is why I wish I could persuade all young people to pay attention and remember what the older people in their family are telling them because there will come a day when they’ll be interested … even though they don’t believe it! In my case, it’s too late — no one left to ask.
The church in this village is right behind this place. I walked around on the cemetary, looked at my grandparents’ grave, where also my uncle rests. There were so many names on tomb stones that I recognized vaguely, but couldn’t remember the stories … because I never paid attention.
The day was overcast and totally calm. We went down to the lake, below the church, where I learned to swim … remembered how they used to scare me for dragonflies [for some reason that’s beyond me]. They said that they could get in to your ears! Silly things they used to tell kids back then — I still feel a little uncomfortable around dragonflies.