21 Jul

On the way back from a weekend trip my husband and I stopped for lunch in a little diner. I was looking forward to being home again – to water the flowers, putter around and sleep in my own bed again. As my mind went through all the tasks waiting for me my attention was drawn to a sweet little toddler. A little girl dressed in lavender with black curls framing her face and curios eyes scanning the room. When a new customer entered she found an easy touch “Hi, Where are you from ?” she asked. He humored her and answered “From California, and where do you live ?” “In my house” came the answer drawing laughter all around.
“What a lucky little girl” I thought to myself as my mind wandered back to my own childhood while we waited for our meal. Unlike her and most of the children fortunate enough to be born in the United States of America I entered this world during the war in the Ukraine under Staline’s regime (find details in “The Chocolate Bar” by Agathe von Kampen). All our property had been confiscated during the Russian Revolution before I was born and by the time I experienced life we survived in a one room mud shack with bombings waking us up most nights. We became refugees when we left our home with the retreating German army when I was six years old and I never lived in any kind of home again until we immigrated to America when I was sixteen.
No one appreciates a home the way I do. I run my hands over the smooth surface of my kitchen counters,Running water inside – unbelievable, remembering what is was like not to have a kitchen at all – cleaning them is a pleasure. Walking barefoot on my soft carpet is a treat. Watering my flowers on the front porch sends me into ecstasy. Turning a switch to have heat or cold is amazing. Best of all, Getting into my own bed with freshly washed sheets that a washer and dryer did for me – no washboard or wringing them out by hand – or even having sheets or a bed to put them on. Never do I go to sleep without giving thanks for the ordinary things that little girls like the one who proudly claimed “her house” have in this country.
God bless the USA.


One response to “Home

  1. Marion Turrell

    July 21, 2014 at 10:47 pm

    Every time Agathe I get cry to myself, it is hard to thing that her life was as she has written in her book “The Chocolate Bar” which to me is a very good book for anyone to read. When I started her book I had a hard time putting it down as I couldn’t believe she had lived through all of the war. We laugh, cry together and really enjoy each other.



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