Monday, August 24, 2020


Last week I had a flashback to my childhood. I spent a few days at our old summer house, aka my grandparents' house one floor of which was our weekend and summer apartment until we moved into a house of our own. I had not spent more than single nights there since that time and while some things in our household there had long become old and defunct, it was still cosy and reminded me of happy summers past. 
I was there with Highflyer and his two sons, the younger of whom still has that completely carefree mode and utter trust in adults when "What are we doing today?" and "What's for lunch?" are the only relevant questions. While the kids were glued to their phone screens like any teenager (and myself) these days and tourist attractions that had wowed me at their age only triggered a "meh" reaction, they still reminded me of myself in my early teens when my own "duty" was to enjoy my summer vacation and not be too big of a nuisance to my parents. Back then, your teenage years seemed to be just a stage you impatiently wanted to grow out of and growing up seemed the inevitable goal. In hindsight, it was the best of times and I readily admit that I am more than just a little envious.


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