" Dothory lived in a small house in Kansa, with uncle Henry, aunt Em and a little dog called Toto. "
I began my introduction with a quotation from the book " The Wizard of Oz", because sometimes, when I am far away with my imagination, I associate that I am Dothory, and my village is Kansa !
I've lived in a small village situated in the north of Vietnam, " There were no trees, no hills in Kansa, and it's often very windy"- That's similar to my village: no big trees, no hills, no mountains, no spectacular sceneries, no modern facilities..It's so quiet that I can't differentiate between " peaceful"and " boring".
Our lives are very close to nature. How would you feel if there were a frog jumping or a crab crawling into your living room while you were watching TV ? It's very normal to me, when rainy season is approaching, some " uninvited guests" ( worms, butterflies,frogs) often visit my house.
In the evening, the silence is interminable and sometimes, the sounds of insects living in paddy fields wake you up at night. If you're a light sleeper and susceptible, you'll feel a bit maudlin !
The majority of people living here are farmers. They start their work at dawn and coming home when stars twinkle in the sky. Parents don't have time to keep an eye on their children, so sometimes they are being lackadaisical, Generally, they're very obedient and greatful.
I have never contemplated moving to a city although my mother can afford to do that. My village- it garners no reputation, sometimes, when the weather has fluctuated strangly and storms hit my village, our lives become more difficult than ever. A simple reason, I love my pretty village, look up to tolerant and open-minded villagers. Children respect adults and adults listen to children's perspectives. You'll never be ostracized for your weird and egregious ideas.
My village : never in bedlam, never happens quarrels between neighbors....very great !
I think we all have a beautiful place in our mind. I have a wonderful place that made me happy a lot of times, years ago. But sometimes I think that I am the only person who likes this place and I’m asking myself if this place will be as beautiful as I thought when I will go back to visit it again. Perhaps I made it beautiful in my mind.
This place is meaningful to me because it is part of the county I loved, is part of the county where I grew up and is part of my childhood. This place is in the country in an old region named Appalachia, a small piece of the Appalachian Mountains, in a town named Pikeville.
Pikeville is a polluted town because of the coal industry. People live in apartment or condominium buildings because of its little space available. I grew up in one of the many buildings in Pikeville admiring from my bedroom window the beauty of the mountains, always exploring with my eyes the forest or the meadows, looking for a clean and quiet place. And, I found one on a hill in the back of the town. It is about 100 feet square, it has seven old trees, wild flowers and a lot of bugs and ants during summer time.
I used to go there to sit down on a rock and watch the town and my trees. There was a very old tree, a maple tree, with a huge trunk. The others were smaller, three in the back, three on my left side and the old maple tree on my right. There were flowers, many kinds, white, yellow, purple and blue. It was nobody’s place. Nobody owned that hill, but it was beautiful and peaceful and I dreamed many times about a white house over there.
I think that, these kinds of places are meaningful to people because they are natural and people can be there alone, away from their everyday life.
I used to go there to be alone or to dream with my eyes open admiring the blue sky or the clouds. I liked to go there to lay down on the grass, listen to the wind, kiss the flowers and watch the leaves moving. It was hard to go up the hill to get there, but I wanted to see everyday my seven trees, to see how the color of the leaves changed and to feel the softness of the grass.
I used to go there with a reason or with no reason at all. I knew that I had to be there to forget who I am, to breath and re-feed myself with hope. That was the only place I could go to dance, or sing, or cry. That place was part of me. The wind was part of my breath, the leaves were part of my song, the flowers were part of my purity and the trees were my friends that I used to hug every time when I got there.
I used to go there even in winter to play with clean snow. In my native town, even after a fresh snow, we got a gray-black layer of soot over the snow. All the town was covered with dirty snow.
During winter time my place was still beautiful. My trees had branches full of white, heavy snow. The flowers, the birds, the grass were gone, also the rock I used to sit on was hard to be found, but it was still peaceful, quiet and especially clean. The snow angels I made kept watch over this natural splendor.
This place is far, far-away in time and space, part of my childhood and my adolescence. It means a lot to me because it is beautiful and natural, is a clean and quiet place in a world of noise and dirty air. This place is maybe beautiful just in my mind, but it is one of the few friends I had, back in Romania. I really hope that the new construction will spare this place and others like it, for these are the places that can bring us happiness.