Although Helsinki’s cobbled streets and majestic architecture formed the backdrop of my early life, my world was anchored in one small, precious place within that city. In the northeastern corner of Helsinki, where the pulse of the city softens and nature quietly takes over, lies the lovely neighbourhood of Itä-Pakila. It was there, in a charming little summer cottage, that the best parts of my childhood summers unfolded. In that place, time seemed to move to a gentler rhythm.

That little cottage became the canvas of my childhood. It was simple and unassuming, with weathered wooden boards and a red felt-covered roof, yet to me it felt full of charm. In the front yard stood a well-worn garden swing that swayed gently in the breeze like an old friend. The rustic porch, with its creaky wooden floorboards, was a place to pause and breathe in the sweet scent of lilacs blooming nearby.

The days of childhood seemed endless there. My younger brother and I were given the gift of unhurried time and endless freedom. The woods became our kingdom, and the winding trails our great adventures. We tracked wildlife, picked berries, climbed apple trees, built secret hideaways, and delighted in the feeling that there was always something new waiting to be discovered just around the corner.

The garden was another world entirely, overflowing with colourful flowers and small wonders. We spent hours there, hunting for ladybugs, chasing butterflies that fluttered among the blossoms, and digging our hands into the earth. We searched for worms, planted seeds, and helped harvest potatoes, all the while growing our own deep love for nature without even realising it.

In that enchanting world of our summer cottage, I discovered the true essence of childhood — the secret of curiosity, the freedom of imagination, and the luxury of time that did not need to be hurried.

When I think back on those summers in Itä-Pakila, I cannot help but smile. Our tiny cottage holds some of the dearest memories of my childhood, not only because of the beauty of the natural world around it, but because of the people who filled that place with life and love.

Our cottage had a way of drawing people in. It radiated warmth and welcome. Sometimes, without warning, our grandpa would appear with the most wonderful surprise — vanilla ice cream. At other times, our grandmothers would come by and sit on the garden swing, sewing, crocheting, or knitting, while talking together about life and the world around them. Those moments may have seemed ordinary at the time, but looking back, they were anything but ordinary. They were the very fabric of belonging.

That cottage was never just a building. It was a place where traditions were quietly lived out and passed on. It was where Finnish life was not explained but simply lived — in nature, in family, in simple pleasures, in shared silence and shared work. Those summers in Itä-Pakila were a perfect weaving together of peaceful surroundings, precious time with loved ones, and a deep connection to our Finnish roots.

As the years passed and childhood gave way to adulthood, the memories and values planted in me there never left. They stayed with me, steady and enduring.

Just a few months ago, my brother and I found ourselves in Finland at the same time. That alone felt remarkable, because since childhood, it was the first time we had both set foot in Finland together.

Returning to our family’s summer cottage after all those years felt like stepping into a living memory. The moment we arrived, the memories came rushing back. It was as though the cottage had been quietly waiting for us all along.

The garden still held the same colourful blooms we remembered from childhood. The cottage itself seemed smaller than it once had, yet its cosiness felt just as comforting as ever. Time had moved on, of course, but in that moment it also felt as though it had stood still. We were no longer children, yet somehow we were standing once again in the middle of those carefree summer days.

That place helped shape us. It gave us a love for nature and deepened the bond we shared as siblings. Standing there together, we realised that while life had carried us forward, something essential had remained unchanged. The memories, the connection, and the sense of belonging were still there — steadfast and timeless.

Being there beside my brother in front of that weathered but welcoming little cottage felt like a reunion with the sweetest parts of our childhood. The cottage stood quietly before us, as if it had witnessed every adventure, every laugh, every barefoot summer day, and had kept them safe for us.

Today, when I look back on my childhood, I realise just how much those summers shaped me. In the embrace of nature, in the simplicity of cottage life, and in the company of those I loved, I learned things that have stayed with me all my life. I learned to cherish simplicity, to nurture curiosity, and to value the deep connections we have both with the land and with the people who make our lives richer.

My whole childhood was held within the sheltered embrace of a tiny northern nation called Finland, but it was in one small northern corner of Helsinki, in Itä-Pakila, that I discovered the true essence of what it means to be Finnish.