I remember our fairgrounds by the Trnava the most. I remember the iron fence, rows of mulberry trees and willows, and the small wooden bridge towards Dunjkovec. Fairs were not frequent. When there were none, all of that was our realm. We children constantly climbed trees, raced across the meadow, and hid around the bridge. At my grandmother’s house, it smelt of bread for the whole week. The garden was full of fruit trees, and I knew every branch. In the morning, geese would fly out of the barn, and I would run across the dewy grass towards the Trnava and listen to the water flowing. Today, houses stand there. There are no more iron fences or fairs, and the area has lost its old charm. Nostalgia remains, but also gratitude. That was my happiest childhood. I remember the silence without cars, a meadow full of children, and the Trnava flowing as if it would never stop.