A person’s life echoes through the stories of generations. In 1956, in the steady gentle rhythm of Helsinki life, my grandfather began each day in the little home he shared with my grandmother on Näkinkuja. I often find myself picturing those mornings so clearly, as though I can almost step into them. Their home was…
Tag: Helsinki
Bedtime Story
Perhaps the wisdom of growing older is realising that the hands we feared were empty have been holding more than we knew. When I was a little girl, about six years old, living in Helsinki, one of my mother’s dearest friends came to our home for supper. Her name was Eila. She lived nearby and…
Apples of Gold 