Dutch -

Bram smiled. He thought about the centuries of history beneath his boots—the Golden Age of seafaring , the painters like Van Gogh who captured this exact gray light, and the resilience of a people who literally built their country from the water.

The rain was a persistent, gray curtain over the polders of Zuid-Holland, the kind of weather that made the brick houses in the village look like they were huddling together for warmth. Bram sat by the window, a cup of coffee cooling in his hands. He watched the wind whip the reeds along the canal, thinking about the old stories—the ones his opa used to tell him about the sea and the struggle to keep it at bay. Bram smiled

He stood up, the stiffness in his knees a reminder of the years. He wouldn't be saving any cities today, but there was a small leak in the shed that needed fixing. He grabbed his coat and stepped out into the rain. After all, that was the Dutch way: you don't wait for the storm to pass; you just learn to work in the wet. Dutch history for a child living abroad? Bram sat by the window, a cup of coffee cooling in his hands