A day for quiet contemplation. A day for walking in the campo, reflecting on wonderful memories of my special mother on the day that would have been her 82nd birthday. The first one without her ….. the first of many such firsts, sadly. Reflecting too on 2012 as it slowly disappears over the horizon. A year of sorrow, loss, endings and beginnings. Continue reading
The discussions which arose from Blog numbers 7 & 10 about where “home” is and what makes it “home” have made me think a great deal about how and why it is that I can feel so quickly content almost anywhere. It made me think again about my mother’s extraordinary travel history, and wonder if I’ve inherited some sort of “travel gene” from her.
My mum’s mother had escaped the Russian Revolution as a child. Mum herself was born in 1930 in a village outside Danzig when it was a Free City-State, so in that sense she was truly a child of the whole world, not constrained by national boundaries. Continue reading