Years
ago, when my Nana died, I was allowed to go through some old things in her
attic. I found a lot of cool stuff. There were postcards from all over the
world, a box of nothing but cancelled stamps and most importantly,
correspondence. The letters I found were written by family and friends from
across the globe. I found a letter from Granddad apologising to Nana for
upsetting her. I found letters from her brothers when they were away in the
war. There were letters from her parents congratulating her on the birth of her
sons. But, there was so much, I put some of it away and didn't look at it again
for many years.
When
I took up that box of correspondence again last year, I found something really
exciting. It was a packet of information written in what I assumed was French.
I couldn’t tell what kind of documents they were. But it all looked like it had
come from a lawyer. There were maps and drawings and some stuff that looked
like it came from a bank or an accountant. I showed it around to a couple of
people I know who speak Spanish and Portuguese.They couldn’t make heads or tails of it and
suggested a translation service. I packed it up and sent it off.
I
told my brother what I found. I asked if he thought it could be something
important like an old bank account in Canada she had forgotten about. Brother
told me he doubted it was anything important. He surmised if it had been, it
would not have been found in a box of old letters in the attic. Brother
reminded me that as a young married couple, Nana and Granddad traveled around
Europe a lot. Brother decided the
documents I found had to be concerned with those travels.
A
little time passed and the documents were returned to me. Reading through I was
excited to find out that Nana and Granddad once considered relocating to the
south of France. The papers and maps were for a very nice little home with a
few acres. There were no pictures, but the description suggested comfort and
beauty. The pages that looked as though they were from a bank were simply the
run down of down payments and mortgages, financial stuff. I wondered what kept
them from going through with the deal.
Checking the dates, I found out that these papers were drawn up eight
months before the birth of my father. I searched for the letter Granddad had
written in apology to Nana. It was dated about a month after the French
documents. Reading it over, it made sense to me now. I wondered how different
my life would be if Nana and Granddad had actually bought that little house and
raised their family there.
