Nothing makes us notice how fast our lives race by then taking a look at our children and grandchildren. To confirm the truth, take a peek in the mirror.

Where did the time go? Why is it we do not notice the passage of time as we live our lives?

Our granddaughters are now 19 and almost 17. They were a mere 5 and 2 when Hubby and I took them to visit Budapest, Hungary. As is the case with many young females, both girls embraced the “I’m a princess” mindset. They even owned princess gowns, which they insisted on taking to Hungary.

We do not know if the girls were clairvoyant or had merely packed for any contingency. In either case, our family prepared for an outing to Esztergom Castle. Consequently, since we were going to a castle, the Grands insisted on wearing their princess dresses.

My uncle planned to drive, but we had to take the subway to meet up with him. People chuckled and smiled when the girls marched onto the subway in true princess fashion. Some asked, “Were the girls in a wedding?”

“No,” I replied. “We are visiting Esztergom Castle, and they insisted on dressing up in their princess gowns.”

As it turned out, the Grands found a small stage outside of the castle and treated the family to their version of dancing princesses.

While we were in Budapest, the family went to a restaurant with a colorful history. Located at the base of Buda Castle Hill, the building had been a hunting lodge, a strip club, and currently a quality restaurant.

The management provided free birthday cakes. Everyone in the restaurant celebrating a birthday during the month received a large cake with a sparkler in the middle instead of candles. Our five-year-old Grand was a sensitive soul and cried because the sparklers were not the usual birthday cake decoration she usually saw. But the waterworks did not last long because she has a sweet tooth. She did allow everyone to have a piece of her cake, but that tiny child managed to eat a sizable portion of that cake.

Our younger granddaughter loved pink. Walking through a city park, we came across a vendor who had beach towels. It caught the two-year-old’s eye because it was pink. It also included a naked lady. The Grand wanted the pink towel, and her mother refused to buy it. High pitched sobbing ensued.

On our return trip home, we changed planes in Frankfurt, Germany. When the German version of our TSA pulled our granddaughter out of line and began to wand her, the child became upset and began to cry. Mind you; the pitch was so high and loud that they used two ladies to rush the shrieking child through. We are willing to bet those security folks not only regretted that encounter but probably had bleeding ears as well. Children do manage to hit levels of sound which those who hear it wish it were only audible to dogs and not humans.

My family escaped from Hungary during World War II. We moved from one camp to another until we landed in Mittenwald, Germany, located on the Bavarian side of the Alps.

Father and I would take a daily climb and settle in a lovely meadow. He studied English while his young daughter played hospital. The patients were grasshoppers. She pulled off one leg from each insect, lined them up, and then tried to cure them by trying to reattach the legs. Of course, the procedure did not work. Any inclination she may have had toward a medical career began and ended on the mountainside.

Eventually, we were made it through the rigorous vetting process to make sure we were disease-free and would be contributing members of our new country. During the seven years, we lived in countless places and moved a total of 49 times. The 49th move was onto the ship that brought us to America.

Is it any wonder, this lady hates moving? Once she arranges her home, the only reason she moves furniture is to clean under them.

 

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