Sometimes there are people or circumstances that are engraved in your memory.
So it is with my mother. In December it is 6 years ago that she died. On the day of her funeral we will load all of our belongings into the truck. We leave for France.
How she would like to have experienced this. Compassion with enthusiasm.
My mother has seen a lot of the world herself. In her younger years she traveled to all kinds of countries as a great ballerina. During the second world war to Scandinavia to perform in Copenhagen. I can retell her stories about that.
I found her diary that she kept from the first day of her training as a ballerina. Her characteristic handwriting that over the years only had become more shaky, but still with the same swirl.
Part of the ink can no longer be read, it has become lighter over the years. I know there were a few of these diaries, but my mother once decided to throw them all away. Her stories were in her mind. Not everyone had to read that, and her photos didn't have to be seen. I had a different opinion but it was her own choice.
I am all the more happy that I found this one diary among her things that I kept in the attic. A special photo caught my attention: a super-flexible young woman who looked cheerfully into the world. Made on April 4, 1944
I will soon be going to the place where both my father and mother are buried. My plan is to take a little bit of soil to France and, once it is spring, to find a nice place in our garden and put it back in the ground. A few beautiful plants and the stone statue that always stood at my mother's garden, of a female dancer.
Also I want to give the photo and the page from the diary a nice place on the wall in our own house. I think she deserves that.
So that her story lives on in our thoughts ...
