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The Landscape I am forgetting
Autumn is one of my least preferred seasons of the year as it makes me undergo this unpleasant feeling of Déjà vu. The landscape is becoming quiet, the nights long, and the day light often becomes foggy. Cold, time, dark and the end of the year is what I am constantly thinking about during this time of the year.
I believe that the déjà vu is coming from my early memories from the time I was living in Slovakia. The soft wind lifting the golden-brown leaves made me feel happy and the sound of crunching leaves made me feel so satisfied. Those senses are becoming stronger as the obscured landscape I am forgetting.
As a child, I perceived this time of the year as one of the most exciting. It was first few weeks that I was back in school. I enjoyed most of the classes, I need to admit I was a bit of a nerd. I would enjoy doing my history or science homework while looking out of the window. Our house was on the hill under the castle, sitting opposite the park. It was my everyday experience of the landscape. As the time was stretching over the years, my sister and I would experience all seasonal wonders and beauty of nature. This landscape is a huge part of our childhood. I guess that those memories are the reason that I do not find autumn pleasant any more as the feeling of déjà vu follows me while the memories of this place are becoming obscured and sadly, I no longer have the longing towards my childhood home.
Last time I visited home was September 2018. I remember having feelings that I am not quite able to describe. The memories still remained clear, but the feelings faded away as I witnessed the landscape on my childhood street change to a rather extreme extent. Almost all of the tall poplar trees had been hewed down and what was once a rich river running through the hill, was now just veins of thin moving water remaining in the dry trough. This street lead towards the city centre and we would often times use this path when visiting our dear grandparents. The realization that the landscape in itself was fading truly made me feel this terrible anxious and unstoppable fear. This fear is something I never thought I would experience. The whole ordeal of my childhood and the close memories I hold within this landscape slipping away so simply. It sometimes makes me wonder why humanity is the way it is. Those trees that I had such a sentimental bond with were so easily destroyed by someone who seemed to not have a care in the world for them. As tragic and painful as it is, I suppose this is just what some things have come to.
The most magical memories of my beloved home take place in our house garden, where as children myself and my sister tended to spend our holiday every summer. The garden was a source of our imagination and thus it fuelled our freedom. The garden was like from a fairy-tale. We grew fruit trees such as red apple tree, beach tree, green apple tree, cherry tree and plum tree. Those trees felt like shelters. Each one was beautifully rich, tall and wonderful. During long summer days we would watch the sunset changing the light and the colour of the sky. The shapes of clouds would remind us of different animals or objects and we would just
watch the sky turn dark, enigmatic and mystical. Often the night sky would be clear, allowing us to see the starts very clear despite the urban light pollution.
As the years went by, our garden and trees became our reliable organic and natural place. We would daily experience its rich beauty. Until the judgement day. I remember that one late spring morning, a sputtering mechanical noise woke me up. I was confused and scared. As I got up from my bed upset, deep down I hoped that it was not want it sounded like. But I was wrong. When I looked outside of my window I saw two men cutting down our beloved trees with a chainsaw. When Iran down to find out what s happening, there I saw mum and dad arguing about dads’ decision of cutting down the trees. “It’s for business purposes,” he said. Mum simply left the room with tearing eyes. I felt weak, powerless and guilty about not able to reverse what just had been done, but as 12 years old child, your voice isn’t heard.
In Slovak folklore, trees hold huge symbolism and significance within our time being and living perceives. Trees mean wealth, wellbeing, luck and happiness. Since that day, our family has been struggling financially and as the outcome few years after, we moved over to a different country. When the house got sold I realised that the beloved childhood home is lost and forever gone.
Once again the man altered the landscape to his image but forgot about the reverse effect or the consequences. This is the terrifying premonition about the future of Earth. Sometimes it would be pretty great if we listened to our inner child voice, speaking the innocent truth and despite the world around, just let nature be nourishing and growing as is.