A Childhood Home Revisited

In my recent story telling post, I made mention of going back to Brazil and visiting my home on the outskirts of Curitiba. This photo was taken not long before we left for Canada.  I'm probably almost ten years old. I was in Grade one when my dad drew up the plans for this house.  There were four bedrooms all in a row along the far side. My Omi lived with us and she used the bedroom beside the one we as sisters shared. Behind the front veranda was the living room, then the dining room and the kitchen in the back.

I remember helping my mom as she crouched in the front yard, planting each blade of grass as an

individual plant that later spread and intertwined with the rest as it grew. My dad laid the multicolored hardwood floor, inlaid with diamond shaped wood pieces.

The driveway seemed steep when going down on our bikes. The backyard had a vegetable garden and some young fruit trees. The street was not paved, filled with potholes and sometimes taken over by the neighbor's cows.

On the photo we are wearing our school uniforms. I loved the shoes I'm wearing there. I guess it was not often that my request for a certain style was granted, so this one I remember.

 

When we went back to visit nearly twenty one years later, Julene was almost ten. The people who lived there were still the second owners. They remembered my parents and were happy to show us around. It was a surreal experience of two seasons in my life . . . that of childhood and motherhood . . . virtually colliding and one I certainly would never have imagined to be possible.

In my mind (and blog) I can take our eleven-year-old granddaughter there now . . . and the brevity of life becomes ever more clear. I heard a verse quoted last night that struck a chord with this thought.

 "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." Psalm 90:2