I dedicate this to my grandparents Nada and Mile, to the memory of them, and to my own memories that remain here.
Before dinner, I would sit in the backyard of the house with my grandma, right next to the well. On that day, we were cleaning the mussels that we had brought back from the sea earlier. I remember that I hated the texture of the mussels, and I still do.
But I remember I loved this time with her, she would always tell a story or sing a song while we were sitting there together.
To my mom:

All I know of this place are the ruins left after the war and the way everyone is rebuilding their lives in the village. I know my story and how we would play pretend in the abandoned houses . I would love to know your stories from here too, how it was for you growing up, and what life felt like here before.
I can’t tell a completely accurate story of how it was for my mom growing up here, we don’t talk often about the past. I know there were many of them living in the house at least eleven. She would tell me about the games they played, how much she loved that they had their own gardens with food, and the feeling of having everything she needed right there. I think she still feels that way and visits the house often. She grew up by the sea, and I know the sea will always bring her great comfort.