Once Upon My Childhood

The glaring sun shone throught the window. The aroma of freshly brewed European coffee tickled my nose as I slowly started to awaken. I pulled down my warm fluffy goosedown blanket and lazily stumbled into the kitchen. My Grandfather, whom I called Grossvater, was sitting at his traditional place at the foot of the kitchen table while Grandmother, Grossmutty to me, was vigoursly cooking us our breakfast.

Each place setting was of a different pastel color. My mouth watered as I saw the flaky lightly browned crescents and hard rolls in the little woven basket. I helped myself to this wonderful Swiss feast. My grandparents drank coffee while my sister and I had rich hot cocoa mixed with fresh creamy warm milk. Grossmutty tried to skim tthe skin off the top of my chocolately drink, which the milk always formed since homoginized milk was not available in Switzerland years ago. I savored every mouth-watering bite of my buttery crescent smothered with strawberry jam.

After breakfast we went into the living room . I walked over to the balcony and admired the lovely Swiss snowcapped mountains. Grossvater handed me a pair of binoculars so I could watch the large, powerful airplanes take off from a nearby airport as they glided into the pillowy clouds.

While Grossvater was busy taking care of his many wonderful prickly little cactus plants, I walked over to the sofa and admired his enormous rubber tree. It's deep green, waxy leaves covered most of one wall. After chatting for a while Grossvater reached into a cabinet and pulled out an Elvis Presley album, for his singing we held a mutual interest. After we listened to Elvis's rich wonderful voice coming out of the antique stereo the three of us decided to go for a walk.

It turned out to be a beautiful morning. My grandparents and I strolled along an old dirt path by a clear, sparkly creek. The rays of the sun touched my face and made me feel so warm, comfortable, and relaxed. My Grossvater cut off a couple of heavy hazelnut sticks from a nearby Filbert bush. It was fascinating to watch him carve each piece with his old Swiss army knife. We he was done my sister and I had our own walking stick. They were straight and the end product was whittled like a candy cane. The three of us marched towards the woods. The large trees towered over us. It felt so much cooler in the thick of the forest. We skipped along singing and laughing, and talking about our high hopes for the future. Afternoon rolled around and suddenly it was time to eat one of Grossmutty's wonderful lunches.

So many years later I pick up my dusty old walking stick from time to time and the memories of the happy days with my grandparents come flooding in as if it were only yesterday.