Poland means so many different things to me, you wouldn't believe, if I started right now I'd talk with no end so I'll spare you longer paragraphs. Above all Poland means green grass, lots of grass and fields, trees that promise shadows and are short of poise in the lack of regular trimming. Poland smells of fruit and dust, rain and cigarette smoke. It's overwhelming how many senses it activates. And there is a garden plopped tightly between acres of fences and others preserving their green space within gray lungs of a big town. It belongs to my in-laws and all the mini beasts one butterfly net couldn't hold at a time. For the first time discovered in its most vulnerable state, with barely a leaf seducing the eye. I loved it nonetheless. I loved it even more on days full of sunny spells only a gardening enthusiast in training would appreciate bringing those empty aisles to life with my imagination (what I still need to make time for is purchasing a pair of green rubber boots. Straw summer hat is simply not enough). What a shock to Nadia to find her favourite hiding spots open to view but soon she learned a steady rhythm of how to familiarize with the monochromatic landscape. You can still hide if those who seek are willing to try harder, if you happen to slump off of the wooden log dividing the plots while running - no damage is done, no flower head will curse you in silence and grandpa won't lift his arms up to the air in horror. Well, he never does it anyway.
Every afternoon back home the fun persisted. Nadia definitely made this place hers - she knew what to expect from certain behavior and how loud the door is allowed to get shut but also all the mess that got shoveled under the bed for the next day's best play was purposefully overlooked by grandma. Because finally there was a motion in slow paced lives of her grandparents, there were accidents happening, sugary drink spills and all kinds of unusual patterns of dirty hands on the walls made appearance. It was all awaited. You can even find Nadia's old toothbrush somewhere in the bathroom from when she insisted on brushing her developing teeth as grandma declined to part with it. Memories in objects, not always re-usable. Damian phoned us regularly but not overwhelmingly often, we had a deal of a breathing space. We lived for those moments like we lived for mum's pork chops. Soon the sun will focus on what has overwhelmed the eyes with emptiness and lack of shade. Soon we will experience it together with fresh produce falling to our hands eaten washed or deliberately not.
Every afternoon back home the fun persisted. Nadia definitely made this place hers - she knew what to expect from certain behavior and how loud the door is allowed to get shut but also all the mess that got shoveled under the bed for the next day's best play was purposefully overlooked by grandma. Because finally there was a motion in slow paced lives of her grandparents, there were accidents happening, sugary drink spills and all kinds of unusual patterns of dirty hands on the walls made appearance. It was all awaited. You can even find Nadia's old toothbrush somewhere in the bathroom from when she insisted on brushing her developing teeth as grandma declined to part with it. Memories in objects, not always re-usable. Damian phoned us regularly but not overwhelmingly often, we had a deal of a breathing space. We lived for those moments like we lived for mum's pork chops. Soon the sun will focus on what has overwhelmed the eyes with emptiness and lack of shade. Soon we will experience it together with fresh produce falling to our hands eaten washed or deliberately not.
