The field

My cousin rang me late in the evening asking me if I knew anything about the field. I knew nothing. Nothing but the stories I heard as a kid, stories of mythic proportions. ‘Your grandmother owns land’, ‘It’s a rubber plantation’, ‘Part of it is yours’. My grandparents always told me not to worry about money, I’d be well looked after. Good stories to hear, when you’re a kid.

I only half believed them then and when my grandparents died and nothing materialised, I shrugged and filed ’em them in the box labelled ‘childhood dreams / urban myths’, along with Santa Claus and the baby Jesus.

It appears the field does exist. And now I wish it didn’t, for the rift it’s brought.

But hey, it’s kind of funny to think that legally, I own part of a piece of land on Sulawesi, even if through circumstances, I’ll probably never really have it.

Mother and Child reunion

(probably taken with a Voigtlander Vitomatic)

Today’s challenge at Photo Friday is ‘mother’ (which seems a little tired after ‘father’ a few weeks ago, but anyway). I only have one picture I took of my mother and grandparents when I was 11 or so, and I can’t find it. I’ve no other shot that fits, so I’m not competing in the challenge. But I’ll honour the theme with this shot that my father must have taken. Mum with red bag, me with white hat and toy camera. With apologies for the quality, I really need a better scanner. (Click to enlarge)

The last song

“I’m inviting you to my vaudeville
“oui encore” you say, “and on with the show”
ladies, gentlemen, before I sing to you
the light that shines twice as bright,
burns half as long.”

My uncle R. passed away on Saturday.
I hope he found peace.

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