WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
SUMMER HOLIDAY
BY BIEKE STENGOS
Year after year,
we set off for the seaside
in Zeelandic Flanders, where
tiny country houses have names
like children’s games.
Our father
stuffs our baggage,
all six of us and
our mother, in
a VW Beetle.
I can’t breathe
one gasps, get your elbow out.
Children, children, quiet now
and, before long, we melt
into one another, singing songs
and counting other VW bugs
as we drive through ribbons
of Flemish villages and then
reach the border, where
Mother points our attention
to Dutch fields that stretch out
forever—hey, don’t push me—
and hints of urban activity
at the horizon.
We are in Zeelandic Flanders.
Familiar—we share a language—
yet so different because
we don’t share a religion
or a government.
At the cottage, we six
take over the large space
under the roof. Mother has
her own room, where Father
joins her, on weekends.
The rest of the week, with
the first light of sun, we crawl
into her bed, and force her
to dig out from an avalanche
of affection.
3 | MAY 2017