MY LIFE, CHAPTER 2: Riding a piggy

I really was a very lively child. I constantly needed to be active and do something, nobody could ever keep me sitting at home. Not even at weekends, when we used to go visit my grandparents. „Hi grandma, hi grandpa!“ I would yell from the porch and immediately run outside.

My grandparents had a big farm near Pilsen. They worked hard to maintain it, but then the Communist regime took it away from them. We were left with the yard, the barn, the garden, the dog, sheep, a pig, some rabbits and chickens.

We took a piece of chalk, drew a goal on the barn wall and the game could start. We had a basket for basketball, we used to play baseball, handball, race one another and time our runs. I remember one time when the whole family had to come and help out: we dug out all the bumpy turf in the yard, covered it with gravel and we could start playing tennis as well.

All winter we went to ski or to skate on a nearby pond. I’d love to go back in time... I close my eyes and memories come, I still smell the wonderful aroma of grandma’s sweet rolls wafting out of the kitchen. I come out of the main room and I see the yard in front of me, and on the other side a large storeroom where we used to store apples or meat after we’d had a pig-slaughter. And next to it the sty where we used to help grandma clean the pig’s stall. Or rather, where we used to wait in the aisle for the piggy to come out. He used to root in the stones, so hard we could hear the crunching, and then we sat on his back to ride him.

I used to accompany my grandpa when he went to gather grass and feed the rabbits. I remember the smell of the freshly mowed grass and the dried hay, I feel the coldness of the tiles when we went to shower, all dirty and muddy, I recall the enormous eiderdown we used to sleep under. First it was cool, and in a minute, it was wonderfully warm.

Sometimes I think: I wish today’s kids had a chance to get similar experience.