No Beginning: My Grandparents and the Life We Had

 When I arrived in Kampong Thom, I didn’t know it yet.

But that place would become the closest thing I ever had to a real home.

The House

Our house stood on wooden stilts.

It was simple. Like many houses in the village.

Underneath the house, there was open space. That was where life happened during the day. There was a wooden bed where my grandparents rested in the afternoon. When the sun was strong, that space stayed cool.

Upstairs was where we slept.

The floor was wood. When you walked, it made soft sounds. At night, those sounds felt louder.

There was no technology. No phone. No internet.

Just wind moving through the trees.
Voices from neighbors.
And silence.

My Grandfather

My grandfather was a carpenter.

He built wooden houses around the village. Many of them are still there today.

He was a quiet man.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it felt important.

He had a cleft lip, and it shaped the way he spoke. His voice was soft, calm, and slow.

My mother was his favorite.

I could feel that, even as a child.

Sometimes when he looked at me, it felt like he was seeing her.

He didn’t show love with big words.

He showed it in small actions.

Every time he came home from work, he brought something for me.

Not expensive things.

Just something.

And that was enough.

The Plum

One day, he brought me a plum.

I remember holding it in my hand. It felt like a gift.

After I ate it, he told me:

“Don’t throw away the seed. Bury it in the ground. You can eat again later.”

I didn’t understand what he meant.

But I listened.

I buried the seed in the ground.

Then the next day, I dug it back up.

I wanted to see if it had grown.

It hadn’t.

So I buried it again.

Then I checked again the next day.

Still nothing.

I kept doing that.

Over and over.

I was confused.

No one explained things in detail back then.

What I Learned Later

As I grew older, I understood.

The seed was not supposed to give fruit immediately.

It had to grow into a tree first.

Only then could it give something back.

At the time, I didn’t get it.

But later, I realized something.

Some things in life take time.

My Grandmother

My grandmother was different.

She was strong, but in a hard way.

She worked every day.

She went into deep water to collect water lilies. Not just near the edge, but far out where it was deeper. She was a strong swimmer, not afraid of the water.

Then she would bring them back and sell them.

That was how she fed me.

She didn’t speak much about love.

But she showed it through survival.

The Other Side of Her

She also drank.

Often.

When she drank, she changed.

Sometimes she acted like something had taken over her.

People said it was her ancestors.

I didn’t understand it.

I just watched.

As a child, it was confusing.

Sometimes scary.

But I had no one else.

So I stayed close.

A Full Life, Without Knowing It

Looking back now, that life was simple.

We didn’t have much.

No comfort.
No extra things.
No clear future.

But we had something I didn’t understand at the time.

Stability.

Routine.

A place.

The Feeling of Belonging

That house…

That life…

That time…

It was the only time in my life where I didn’t feel lost.

I didn’t question where I belonged.

I didn’t think about the future.

I was just there.

And that was enough.

What I Didn’t Know

I didn’t know it wouldn’t last.

I didn’t know everything was about to change.

I didn’t know that one day, I would look back at this time as something I could never return to.