Tuesday, July 7, 2009
my grandmother's house
My grandmother's house isn't the same - how could it be? She is dead and gone these thirty years, but her memories live on. The house she lived in is now owned by someone strange; Aria and Pim, the present owners, showed me around, but still, it isn't the same.
Time marches on and all we have are the memories. Sometimes, I think it is better to let it be - to remember as we wish to remember, rather than trying to go back and see it as it is now. Graffigny-Chemin is a beautiful little village on the edge of the Vosges Mountains. The pace of life is quiet, the way of living hasn't changed much in hundreds of years - villagers farm and raise what they need. The population for years was declining as the young went to the big cities where there was employment. Only recently have new people come to the village, people escaping the clamor of the big city life and people seeking something simpler.
Once my grandmother's family had pasturage to the south of the village and it was sold. Once there were three gables on the roof, now they are no more. The family had their own chickens and horses, but the garden is overgrown. I think it my grandmother would prefer the past to the present.