Rememberment

I enjoyed the simplicity of life in our new home. Unlike in the apartment, I could go out whenever I wanted. And there was always something exciting to do, whether it was examining the surrounding nature in the summer or building things out of snow during winter. I also quickly made friends with a boy from our neighbour, besides him being a couple of years older than me. Their house was a few hundred meters away from ours and we visited each other by a path through the woods. On weekdays I was brought to an older couple living a bit further down the road. They looked after a couple of other boys as well for me to make friends with. It was a real farmhouse with cows, pigs and chickens and there was never a boring moment. We fed the animals, gathered eggs and though we were told not to, dug tunnels in the piles of hay in the barn. From that activity I once got such an allergic reaction that both my eyes were swollen shut. "I hope you learn your lesson from this" said Mom. I did...

I've had the idea of doing this for many years. Perhaps it's my midlife crisis that finally got me started - I'll be 50 this year and starting a blog seems cheaper than buying a motorcycle.  Not to mention I kinda hate motorcycles. For the most part, I guess I'm doing this just to see if I can. I enjoy writing, and consider it one of the few things I'm somewhat good at. This is also an attempt to do some self-healing, hence "rememberment" - trying to reattach some of my missing pieces by digging into the past. (Cool huh? Honestly, I just like playing with words. Pretty happy with this one!) Seriously though, some of the stuff I'm about to write here will be quite heavy.  I'm going to deal with sensitive topics such as mental issues and religion. You should probably consider yourself warned.  Thanks for joining. Perhaps we will both learn something along the way. I love stories. The ones I've found most captivating span across genres - comedy an...

"I think it's a boy" said the midwife while I was peeing all over her. The year was 1975 and my three brothers were already in their teens. Dad was just about to turn 40 and Mom was 34. Dad was the one who wanted a fourth child. It wasn’t a small thing to ask; they had already tried that once before and it didn’t go well. She was already far along when they found out that something’s seriously off. Terminating the pregnancy was the only option to ensure my mother would live. Mom agreed to give it one more go on a condition - my dad would have to participate in baby care, something he had not really done with my brothers. He made the promise and kept it. I still have a couple of memories from my first few years. Our apartment had two bedrooms. My brothers (and our dog) shared one of them. We often had a bunch of unfamiliar kids in the house, as my mom made some extra money minding other people's children. One of my memories is when such a kid took my favorite book and ...