When the war ended, there was nothing left of the city and of the house where my grandparents had lived.
So they returned to the village where they had been children.
But my grandfather never kept another songbird.
The last time I saw him, my grandfather said that he longed to see California one more time. He never did.
And when I was nearly grown, I left home and went to see California for myself.
After a time, I came to love the land my grandfather had loved, and I stayed on and on until I had a daughter of my own.
But I also miss the mountains and rivers of my childhood. I miss my old friends. So I return now and then, when I can not still the longing in my heart.
The funny thing is, the moment I am in one country, I am homesick for the other.
I think I know my grandfather now.
I miss him very much.