Christmas is inextricably linked to travelling. Some of us, just like in the song ‘Driving home for Christmas’, visit their family home every year, others start their own traditions – fly to faraway destinations or stay home, enjoying wine, books and favourite TV shows. Whether you like these holidays or not, whether you still have your family home or unfortunately not, everyone likes to go back in time to the good old days and recollect their carefree childhood.
My first memories are about my grandparents… It is my grandpa coming back after morning shopping, taking out fresh bread rolls from a leather briefcase, together with ‘Trybuna’ and ‘Gazeta Lubuska’, various weeklies, depending on the day of their issue. He was probably so sick and tired of my questions like what time the cartoon is or what is written here or there that he taught me to read. When I was only five, I would devour articles in a leftist journal. This affected my views and perspective of the world, and I am very grateful to my grandpa for that.
I was a sickly child. I sometimes pretended to be sick to stay home a few days longer. I could read, count, so I was a little bored at school. I also have fond memories of semolina and milk pudding, which my grandma brought to my room, loads of pancakes with jam, my favourite cucumber soup or mint tea served when my stomach hurt. I guess this is why I still hate its taste.
After all these years, I see how lucky I was to grow up not only with my parents, but also grandparents, who were present in my everyday life. The memories of my family home and time spent with my nearest and dearest pay off at different points of life. In the huge warehouse of memories, I open individual drawers with treasures, which helps me in my darkest days. Even though I cannot return to my family home physically anymore, I can always recall my memories, which bring Christmas back whenever I want to. v