This postcard is from my grandfather's birthplace, in northern Italy, not far from Venice. I found it again today while cleaning up and rummaging through old photos. Something you do every few years, when you catch a moment of nostalgia and peace, or when you're forced to stay home. My father wrote me this card when I was 4 1/2 years old; it's 31 years old, from 1989. The Wall was still standing back then... Now it's 2020, I've been a father myself for two months, and my father is a grandfather. I live in Berlin, and my parents live almost 600 km away in North Rhine-Westphalia. We were actually planning to travel to Italy with our daughter in May, see each other again, and welcome the 5th generation of our family to my great-grandparents' house. At the moment, it doesn't look like we'll be able to make that trip. Who knows if we'll even get around to visiting the old house this year. Of course, you also wonder about the world this innocent little creature was born into. But despite everything, I remain positive and have no doubt that we will emerge from this stronger. I see the card, look back, and know that even at a distance and now in so-called social isolation, there is a force that holds us together. And I look into my daughter's smiling face, first thing in the morning, and know there is still much good in the future for us.
