A Fading home
01 Take care of You
“The house which belonged to my grandmother in Diemen, near Amsterdam, In memory has always reminded me of ‘home’ more than the house I grew up in.
The wooden statuettes on the walls - that she had brought from when she lived in Surinam -
And the Carribbean calender above the toilet sink with every family member’s name on it, with pictures of the Curacaon food.
It is the way I remember my Grandfather walking down the stairs, which in my memory slowly became more slow and
Until he just stayed downstairs for ever.
It reminded me of home so much because the bridges between generations became abundantly clear when my grandmother would explain on one side her tolerance for the way her move to holland wiped away her free extra live-years - from being away from the sun. On the other hand she would be so reasonable about modern society re-shaping her grandkids into westernized identities.
The question remains; "How does what runs through your veins coexist with being nurtured in a foreign place.
All I know is what it's like to be born in a place you claim but will never call your own. Still there is space between me and my family born under Caribbean palmtrees.
- Sometimes, I’m thinking of going there, to the house where my grandmother lived. Just to peak inside the house and see what it’s like now. I’m sure my memory of it is way more valuable than seeing what the forever changed interior would do to me.”