although.

photo via Pinterest

I want to share with you a lovely story that my grandma told me about her young days recently.

She was a teacher and while studying at the university, one of her professors was in love with her. He was always making some jokes about her or doing some funny things to her. One of them I find very cute.

He asked the students to write complex sentences for homework and then he collected it. My grandma has written this sentence:

Although he loves her, love is not real.

The next day he gave back the homework for students and my grandma's sentence was corrected into this:

       him

Although she loves her, love is not real.

Haha, how cute is that? 

My grandma was super angry on him all the time and it lasted years! Until she graduated and at the graduation ball he took her for a dance and said to her that he's very sorry and that he was never thinking of hurting her feelings. 

Although that was the end of the story and nothing happened between them, now she still remembers him with a smile:)

xoxo

Ak.

P. S. I'm visiting my relatives this week, so I don't have much time (and internet) for my blog - I'll catch up with you later, my dears, have a great week!

[...] were lines that I couldn't change

It has been a second summer as we (me & my parents) were trying to find the place where my mother was born. It was a very small village in Žemaitija (one of the five ethnographic regions of Lithuania), somewhere crossed by two rivers, Jūra and Lokysta.

Last summer a sister of my grandfather told us that there is nothing left there and unfortunately, she didn't even remember where we could look for it, only the main direction of the road. But this summer we insisted to find it. And we did.
My aunt was right, there was nothing left, only the ruins of the house and a wooden cross (the people, who described the way for us, also told us that the cross is exactly in that place, where the school was). So this was the place, where my grandparents and my mother have lived (the second picture) til the years of 1958. There was a school, where my grandmother used to work as a teacher and they used to live in the same house. Nearby we found a little chapel in the bushes (the first picture).
As I stood there in the empty fields, where used to lived the people I love, I felt magical. My grandma told me so many stories about that place that I almost felt like these stories were my own. And while I was standing there, it seemed that all those stories started going back as the pictures of their lives where rewinding.
And at that moment I started to wonder. In how many places I was, where I didn't see anything but a nice surroundings? And maybe some people see there the whole life running in front of their eyes? (probably it is not a coincidence that in Lithuania older people call their houses "lives").

xoxo,
Ak.
P. S. I didn't have my camera with me, so these photos are from my telephone..