A Memory of Olive Pickle....

In every stage of life, we collected memories, some unforgettable memories They quietly settle in our hearts, waiting for the right moment to come alive again... 💘💬

Today, a simple thing brought back one of those memories. My mother came home with some Olive pickle, and just one look at it took me years back into my childhood... 🥹🫒

I must have been around eight years old back then. Growing up with my three brothers meant life was always full of noise, laughter, and a little bit of mischief... 👪💕

One day, the four of us sneaked into the neighboring garden. There was an olive tree, and without thinking twice, we started picking the fruits. I couldn’t climb the tree, so I gathered the fallen ones from the ground.... 🫒💫

We brought everything home and built a small wood stove in the yard. With a big pot, we boiled those olives and turned them into our own homemade pickle. It wasn’t perfect, but to us, it tasted like the best thing in the world... 🫒🍴

There was a big tree near our house, and on top of that tree there was a small wooden hut that the brothers had built. We took the pickle and climbed into it, sat together, laughed, and enjoyed the pickle...🫒😚💕

That memory came to me today with a silent sadness. Because those four little kids are not the same anymore. We are all growing up and taking on the responsibilities of adults... 💝💫

Some moments are too pure to relive. They stay only as memories beautiful, distant, and irreplaceable. Maybe that’s what makes them the most precious part of our lives... 🥹💝💫

A Memory of Olive Pickle 🫒💖