Saturday, May 07, 2005


She is smiling her sweetest smile.

Where is she now? When is she now? She must be standing in this same street. Two small kids on her strong arms. She is the same age as I am. 33. Life has started again. A war has just ended.
Big green trucks pass by. Noisy green motorcycles. Two gigantic tanks. Man with broad smiles. Sweets being thrown in the air. She is smiling her saddest smile.

I have known here all my life. I was born in her house. I spend half of my childhood in her house. I know her eyes. I know her worried look. But best of all I know her smiles.

Some of the men on the wagons are young. But the warcostumes make them look ancient. Some of the men are my grandmothers age. They might have been here 60 years ago. All the way from Canada. Fighting the German occupiers. Freeing this small little village in the east of Holland.

She makes a joke. She laughs like a girl. Sometimes she is here. Sometimes she isn’t. That’s when she is smiling her sweetest smile.


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