text and images britt-arnhild
The conversation with my parents yesterday planted a seed. Deep in my mind. It all started when pappa said a few words which reminded me so much of his mother, grandma, bestemor, best mother, Ragna Josefine.
Driving home from my parents I looked into the car mirror, and there I saw the top of my forehead, the soft silver hair. It was like a hug from bestemor. I look so much like her, a recognition which makes me filled with love.
Through the night I searched for memories. When bestemor cherished my hair, saying "it is such a beautiful day", when she taught me to crochet, when we sat down at her kitchen table and she made me thick slices of bread with syrup, when I watched her weed her garden. The memories are there, and last night I wrote them down. But they are so few. I want to remember more. I want to live again moments of my childhood. I want bestemor here now. There are so many questions I would like to ask her.
We will have dinner with my parents on Sunday. Two of my brothers will be there.
I will use the opportunity to ask then for memories.
And to ask my parents more about their lives.
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What do you do with your childhood memories?
