I remember the summer I spent
with my grandparents in the countryside.
They lived in a small village in the south of Ukraine.
Actually, I remember every summer there.
Actually, I want to remember everything,
but I can’t.
In my memory, the house is always full of people.
My cousin is two years older than me.
I try to keep the memories
but I can't hold on to them.
Memories fade with time
Or were they always so blurred.
Somehow I can clearly remember the morning
when my cousin moved to Germany with her family.
Everyone was sad and we couldn't understand why.
On the way home from the station, I saw the most
beautiful dawn that has remained in my memory until now.
People also fade like memories.
I still spent every summer without my cousin there.
Played outside,
spent time with grandpa.
I loved the most when he was telling me stories from
his childhood.
Found new friends.
Back then, it felt like it would always stay that way.
The last time I saw grandpa, I could feel
the touch and warmth of his embrace for long time after.
He died in 2007.
I moved.
Many things have changed.
But under the endless sky there
I'm still small as back then.
The memories are passed on and on and on.
Sometimes they are the only things that
connect us to our family or culture.
Our own invisible heritage.