I used to be this bright blonde headed child that believed in everything beautiful and did all the stupid things that popped into my head. I spent my childhood climbing trees with my brother, i used to know every tree in our orchard, how it bent and where is the easiest way to climb each one of them and how it smels when a branch gets broken and how very alive you feel when you try to jump from a branch to branch and you don’t really know if it will work out and the thrill when it does. And how it feels when you fall into the long grass that softens your fall and makes you feel lucky none of your bones got broken. And the joy of picking the highest apple on the tallest apple tree and the first bite that feels like a rainbow would explode in your mouth and you can’t help but smile. And trying to prove again and again that you are capable of all the stuff boys are doing, even if you’re a girl and trying to hide tears when you eventually get bruised and battered and the way your cheeks get all red of the cold or sun outside and how you keep on taking in all the joy and sun and do it every day without really knowing how god damn lucky you are. How damn lucky i still am.

And these few days, that i got off work and am spending in the comfort of my home, feel like childhood again. Working in the garden and in the orchard, cleening up after what winter has done to the trees and grapevine. So much clear bright memories of pure happines or rather of not thinking about how i feel, just being a part of crazy little advatures, making our parents angry and our hearts free. I should do this more often. I should feel this more often.

It’s different when you actually know where the logs in the fireplace come from, couse you chopped it of a dead tree yourself the warmth suddenly feels like beeing an adult - bittersweet - you know the tree has lived and been a great climbing device, but you also know it has lived through its share of winters and has retired of life and is now ready to give its final gift - warmth. Bittersweet warmth is how i feel most of the time and that’s alright too. 

“Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.”
― Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go