Nustrup is a small town in southern Denmark, an easy drive away from Germany’s border, where my father grew up. To this day his parents still reside in the same house. This small town is made up of flat, lush green fields that continue on for miles, while petite trees pop up from the ground every so often. The lack of weeds makes the land appear peaceful and well kept. Most houses in Denmark are made in the old Nordic style. People have pride in restoring or preserving old architecture from houses, castles, and even churches all over the land. The dedication in keeping structures maintained can be compared to the way they up keep their houses. Much like my grandparents, people keep their lawns well trimmed with small flower gardens out lining the side of their houses, and a similar garden in the back to grow vegetables.
In Nustrup, a single store supplies the small neighborhood, accompanied by a park filled with basic swings and slides. Both in a reasonable walking distance from each other. My sister and I spent a lot of time walking between the two places to supply our need for sweets. Then burning the excess energy off at the park before waking back to our grandparent’s home. Being in the country, when we wanted to travel any where else we would have to drive on flat roads stretching infinitely along country acres before reaching our final destination. Denmark is a home of bittersweet emotions accompanied by memories. Nonetheless, it will forever remain an important place to me.
I could not tell you my first time setting foot on Danish soil because I was only a year old when my father and mother decided to move there. It was a short lived trip, only lasting a little over two years before they decided to move back to Washington. From then on we would visit my dad’s family during the holidays, as well as during the summer. One of the earliest memories I have was close to age six: my father was spinning my little sister and I in my grandfather’s favorite chair. The next part of the memory involves myself flying out of the chair hitting my head on their wooden coffee table. I began to wail as my dad and grandmother rush me into the laundry room setting my small body on top of a dryer to clean me up. To this day I still bare a small scar next to my right eye as a reminder of the event.
What makes Nustrup stand out so much to me is that everything seems calm, similar to the way most lived in the past, like time slows down there, allowing one to relax without worries. Normal every day things that seem like a chore in Washington, appear to be more enjoyable, such as shopping, or making your bed in the morning. For me it is the one place that feels like home; where I can be myself. It is nice to walk down the streets knowing that when you encounter someone, you will receive some form of acknowledgement, whether it be a smile or a nod, instead of looking straight down at the ground avoiding all forms of communication.
My last visit to Denmark was in 2009. I was a junior in high school at the time when my dad decided that we needed to make a visit, which turned out to be the hardest to say goodbye. Two weeks was not enough to make up for lost time. What ignited my dad to plan the trip was that my last great grandmother, who was almost 98 years old, was long overdue for a visit. My dad is a grandma’s boy. He spent most of his childhood growing up on her farm, being raised by her and his grandfather because his parents had to do a lot of traveling. I cannot begin to describe the bond that they have. The memory that stands out the most from our last visit was when my dad said goodbye to his grandmother one last time. My sister, grandparents, and I all said our goodbyes before heading to the car. Sitting, with tears rolling down my face, I watched as they said goodbye. This was the second time I remember ever seeing my dad cry has he hugged and kissed her farewell, not know if that moment would be his last ever holding her in his arms.
Check Out: Kyle Andrews "You Always Make Me Smile"
In Nustrup, a single store supplies the small neighborhood, accompanied by a park filled with basic swings and slides. Both in a reasonable walking distance from each other. My sister and I spent a lot of time walking between the two places to supply our need for sweets. Then burning the excess energy off at the park before waking back to our grandparent’s home. Being in the country, when we wanted to travel any where else we would have to drive on flat roads stretching infinitely along country acres before reaching our final destination. Denmark is a home of bittersweet emotions accompanied by memories. Nonetheless, it will forever remain an important place to me.
I could not tell you my first time setting foot on Danish soil because I was only a year old when my father and mother decided to move there. It was a short lived trip, only lasting a little over two years before they decided to move back to Washington. From then on we would visit my dad’s family during the holidays, as well as during the summer. One of the earliest memories I have was close to age six: my father was spinning my little sister and I in my grandfather’s favorite chair. The next part of the memory involves myself flying out of the chair hitting my head on their wooden coffee table. I began to wail as my dad and grandmother rush me into the laundry room setting my small body on top of a dryer to clean me up. To this day I still bare a small scar next to my right eye as a reminder of the event.
What makes Nustrup stand out so much to me is that everything seems calm, similar to the way most lived in the past, like time slows down there, allowing one to relax without worries. Normal every day things that seem like a chore in Washington, appear to be more enjoyable, such as shopping, or making your bed in the morning. For me it is the one place that feels like home; where I can be myself. It is nice to walk down the streets knowing that when you encounter someone, you will receive some form of acknowledgement, whether it be a smile or a nod, instead of looking straight down at the ground avoiding all forms of communication.
My last visit to Denmark was in 2009. I was a junior in high school at the time when my dad decided that we needed to make a visit, which turned out to be the hardest to say goodbye. Two weeks was not enough to make up for lost time. What ignited my dad to plan the trip was that my last great grandmother, who was almost 98 years old, was long overdue for a visit. My dad is a grandma’s boy. He spent most of his childhood growing up on her farm, being raised by her and his grandfather because his parents had to do a lot of traveling. I cannot begin to describe the bond that they have. The memory that stands out the most from our last visit was when my dad said goodbye to his grandmother one last time. My sister, grandparents, and I all said our goodbyes before heading to the car. Sitting, with tears rolling down my face, I watched as they said goodbye. This was the second time I remember ever seeing my dad cry has he hugged and kissed her farewell, not know if that moment would be his last ever holding her in his arms.
Check Out: Kyle Andrews "You Always Make Me Smile"
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