Alpina's blog post - More Memores

When the sun was shining and this special tang of approaching spring was in the air yesterday, I steered my pram out of the centre of Zuerich, along the more shadowy side of the lake until after more than an hour I was standing in front of the house I had lived in during the year of my studies. It still looks pretty the same, quite a large structure in the middle of a little park, with trees, bushes and some wild flowers in summer, no vegetable patch or anything similarly cultivated. At the end of the 19th century it was certainly built for a well-to-do family, afterwards it was used for some communal offices until it could be rented by one of my friends, who was the son of a town official. Yesterday it looked uninhabited, in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and a gardener; maybe they are planning to tear it down like so many old houses in big gardens, to build another block of flats or offices.

It was strange to stand there and look through the wire mesh fence. I was immediately looking at two houses at the same time: this quiet, deserted, run-down place who possibly escapes people's notice when they come along here from the tramway after work, and the house of my memories, which was so full of life. Someone had painted it light green then, and there were always flags and posters hanging outside, which were noticed and commented on by passers-by, who were gaping at our house with interest, hoping they might see some nude skin somewhere in the windows and disapprove.

But as much as I looked, there was no movement behind the half blind window panes, and I was not standing topless up there and waving down at me, as I sometimes had at curious bystanders. Instead I tried to explain to little Alpinita, who had woken up from her sleep, that this was the house in which her mummy had once lived.

Where ever will she live when she is 22, and who will she wave to then?