Sunday, August 30, 2015
During World War 2, living in Holland, there was not much magic in the lives of children, and so we made
our own. My older sister, Hannie, introduced me to the fantasy world of elfs and gnomes, except I did
not know that it was fantasy. In our backyard we had some old trees with openings at the bottom of these
trees, with dark holes at the start of the roots. That is where the gnomes lived. We would leave notes, and
sometimes a crust of bread or such, usually in the everning. Then in the morning there would be a note
from them and I would be so exited. Then one day I left a note all by myself, and in the morning it was still
there, the gnomes had not read or answered it. Hannie saved the day by convincing me that she had to
be involved with these communications.
She was a nice sister, and with her passing goes a great part of my childhood. I miss being able to talk
to her, so I still do, and I thank her for the many good memories.
