A day on the green
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It doesn’t matter how far we travel, our most beloved memories seem to always be connected with family and food.
My son’s grandfather grew up in Molina de Aragon, a tiny medieval village in north-eastern Spain. It’s home to a few thousand people, but when we visited in the summer with my brother and his family, the days were long and the streets were empty.
There’s an ancient bridge here, a castle tower there, laundry hanging from balconies and a bar or two with jamon for days.
Aio’s abuela (grandma) cooked nonstop while we took the “amigos forever" cousins out to explore the sleepy little village together. Abuela bought both boys a cheap, classic Spanish push-along toy that they raced through the house, along the quiet streets and into the main square.
Soon the sound of their laughter (and the plastic toy clattering) echoed up the town’s ancient stone walls. We adults laughed too, at how you can give children the most expensive gifts in the world, but what they really want most is just time to be free.
Adios Molina, see you next year!