I have to confess I got totally consumed by the House with The Garden in the past few days. Well, more The House than The Garden to be honest, but it has been a joyful and long awaited bonding from both sides. Now, that Monsieur Thesis is not between us no more and neither any kind of third parties in connection with education, we can fully blossom our admiration towards each other. I had so much to write about, but it was 1am during the past three days by the time I got to switch on my laptop and fall asleep straight after opening the page only typing up ‘Day 135’, ‘Day 136’, but today I made sure I set down during the day and finally write. It is almost 3pm.
It’s incredible how much stuff I horded together during the past 10 years of studying. I have more beads and threads than some of the haberdashery shops. I have been meaning to sort my arts and crafts stuff out for years, but finally I started yesterday. I have a 3 door wardrobe to go through, several boxes and suitcases showed under the staircase and the tables. I started to put everything in order: beads, threads, ribbons, buttons, so on in separate boxes and clear plastic sleeves. I even keep little pieces of fabrics and threads for the textile art pictures I so love making and haven’t had a chance to do so during the past 6 years at uni. Finally, I also started to change the curtains and alter them to the right lengths. I still had those ones I got from the neighbours when I was an Au-Pair years and years ago, after they changed theirs. When I came home for a gap year I put them up on the windows of The House with The Garden, but because it has incredible big windows it looked like I shrank the curtains as they were short on the length and narrow on the sides.
Couple of years ago during my spending spree I bought new curtains for The House and finally I started to put the winter ones up. They make wonders in the insulation and they do block the sun out, so if I don’t set my alarm I just sleep until lunchtime. But this is what holidays are for, isn’t it? It starts to get really cold outside, which sets the scene for a perfect Hungarian Christmas. Dad came around and cut out a pine tree from The Garden, which is going to be my Christmas tree and he also helped me to change the furniture around. These little encounters are quite significant as we have not much relationship built up. I made sure I praised him for his help and reminded him, that there is no swearing in The House, which made it really easy to get on with the jobs. We talked about his mum a wee bit as he got a group photo of a play she was in from his uncle, who knows how much I long to know more about Granny Fodor. Apparently, as dad and other people who remember her told me, I totally resemble her even with my talk and gestures. She died when dad was only 4. It was a tragic death of her generation ruled by government policies of child birth and a hard loveless marriage oppressed by being on the village rich list at the dawn of communism, which was the dusk of the strong and hard-working village farmer class branded as ‘kulaks’ from one day to another. Dad very rarely speaks about his mum. First time just over 10 years ago we both cried when I asked him questions, he was very drunk and told me when she died he was looking for her everywhere even under the bed, but he couldn’t find her. As I am getting older and going through my own struggles I become more understanding with his sorrows, which shaped that formless attachment between us (mum, brother and me) and him. He said today, sober, he remembers his mum laying on the bed sick and being cared for, a piece of clothes being soaked in cold water on touching her face, but it was too late. It always makes me very emotional when we talk about this and I am so grateful for God for my mum, who was sitting in the middle of craft boxes with me yesterday as we sorted the reminders of the past ten years.
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