Tuesday, May 14, 2024

They asked the mother: “Woman, you were a girl once. You lived a good life and then conceived children. Then you became a mother. Not once but twice. And both times your children died. Why do you call yourself a mother? You were once, but not now!” The mother took her scarf off and looked at them with her watery eyes and sharp look. “Does the mountain get flat when the earthquakes are done? Do rivers stop flowing when the rain stops? The same as the air that does not go away when the wind stops, the woman becomes a mother once and remains forever. It is true, that death will be my relief, just as the hole where the sea is waits for the water to vanish. My life without my children is pointless, but I am still a mother. Mothers don't die.”. The people resented it and went to another woman. They found a widow living alone, whose children had moved out of the village. “Hey woman, do you still have mothering to do? Even now when your three children do not sit next to the same fire where you warm your cold bones? Even now when there won't be anyone to cover you when you are asleep or close your eyes when you die? Why do you call yourself a mother? You were once, but not anymore!” The mother kept sitting on the small chair in the middle of her room. She didn't lift or turn her head at all. She wept for a moment and then spoke. “When my children left, they took three things with them. The oldest took my legs so I couldn't walk. The second one took my eyes, so I couldn't see. The youngest one took my soul, so I cannot be. When I became a mother my breasts were full of milk. Now they are shallow and heavy. But have I lost them? My eyes are worthless as they don't see my children now, but they are still there. My legs don't take me anywhere, but I can still stand straight on them. Even though I don't feel love for anyone else anymore, for I do not have a soul, I welcome my good friends every time they come to visit me. My life without my children makes little sense, but I am still a mother. And mothers don't die”. People got upset about how wise the woman was and they didn't hear what they wanted. They left and went to find their answers to another poor soul. They found a grave on which the following was written: “Here lies a Mother, who once gave birth to a single child. She raised him together with her husband. He got educated, worked, and had a family of his own. When she died, the mother had 4 nephews. She was and always will remain our most loved mother.” Signed were her children and nephews. The people looked at each other and didn't say a word. Then one of them said out loud: "Hey, people! We tried to find a woman who was once a mother but isn't anymore. You see, we found the one who mourned her children. But she was still a mother. Then we found the one who waited for her children to come back, but she was still a mother. Then we found this tomb engraved with these fine words on it. She is dead, but they still call her a mother. We couldn't find that woman, but all we found was that mothers don't die. Do we still have to seek? Once you become a mother, you are a mother, even in your death". Then they scattered and didn't look for a woman who was once a mother, but not anymore.

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Tuesday, May 7, 2024

The night was chill. The sky was full of clouds. High beneath a rock there sat the father and his loved daughter. She sobbed on his shoulder as he caressed her blonde curly hair. Sometimes life creates moments as if they are taken from a story and truly, this one was a moment that she was to remember for the rest of her life. The cheeks of the daughter were wet and red. The air was becoming chiller and the wind stronger. They both felt cold. The father took a blanket from his bag and covered them both. “Do you want to sleep?" he asked. She shook her head. “Daddy? Are you sure it's tonight?" “Yes, sweetie, it's tonight”. She cried. The father tried to comfort her. "When you were born, you were so small, I couldn't believe I could hold you in my hands. You came to this world with the same temper you have now as a grown-up. I was so in love with that small creature the moment I saw it. The midwife approached me and asked: “Do you want to cut it?”. She meant the umbilical cord. “Yes.” When your mother gave you life, but when I cut your umbilical cord, I gave you freedom. I was so happy with you. I was watching you growing, changing, maturing. Then one day you said “I want to share my life with another man” and I nodded as you were happy. But that night I cried, I cried so much. How can I share you with others? I am your father, I wanted to take care of you for your whole life. Who can take care of you better than me? But you went and you were happy. The day you left home, two new rivers started flowing from the mountains that were my eyes. That is the struggle of the father. To love you even when the heart is breaking, to think about you even when there aren't any more new memories. When we heard the news that I would be leaving, you came to me crying. We both cried. But I couldn't do anything. My time has come. Let's live the rest together, we decided. Let's go and travel. When the time comes, I will catch the cloud and depart, and you will go on with the same love for your children I had for you. You are taken care of, that is why I will go in peace. So be happy when remembering me. Mention my name aloud, don't let the memory die. We can not do much about a dying body, but we can about a dying memory". As he spoke this, the daughter was shaking her head in disagreement. They stayed there, under the clear sky for some time. When the weather started to be calmer, the clouds went away. The starry sky showed. From the distance, a white shiny cloud showed. “I was so happy with your existence, I considered it a punishment. Your beauty haunted me and made me sleepless. My love for you was something that tore each organ in my body even just by seeing you. I will always love you.” He leaned as he kissed and hugged her strong. When the cloud was above them, he stood up firmly. “We prepared for this all this time. Let's do it." She stood up. She reached to him as he was climbing on the cloud. “You will always be my little one, froggy”. The next moment a strong wind blew the cloud and took it far away from her. She was inconsolable. All memories came alive again. All, but one. When he cut her umbilical cord and let her live her life freely.

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Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Jack and his son Alfred got into the car. They drove away from the house where Olivia and Amanda were still waking up. The morning dew on the car started announcing warmer weather. It was the first morning after a while that Jack didn't have to clean the icy front shield. Alfred recently turned 13. He sat in the front seat in silence, knowing their mission, and not enthusiastic of what they were doing. The car smelled like any other car. As they approached the school, the janitor saw them and opened the gate. “They told me you'd be coming earlier today, but I didn't expect you this early”, he showed his missing tooth. They picked up their things from the trunk. Alfred first took a smaller bag, and then another black bag that looked like a small guitar. The janitor was there the whole time. “Do you need anything from me today? Even though I don't know how I can help musicians.” “We are not musicians”, Jack said, “I am a woodworker, and Alfred is in high school.” The janitor relaxed his face and nodded. “All right. If you need anything I'll be there”, he pointed to the empty cabin at the front of the school. They were not musicians indeed. Alfred has been learning drumming for the past 3 years. Music was not Jack's thing, but for the past 2 months, he has been drowning in singing and Ukulele lessons. To say it was challenging, it'd be an understatement. He still had to do his work, provide for his family, and do things around the house. He didn't sleep well. But he didn't complain. Last month Jack and Alfred had a meeting with the principal of the school. They came up with an idea and she was receptive and somehow excited about it. “Do you do rehearsals? You can use our music room early in the morning before classes start.", she proposed. “Rehearsals? That might be a good idea, what do you think?”, Jack asked Alfred. “Yes, let's try". You could count on one hand the songs that Alfred could drum, and on one finger, the songs that Jack could play. The plan to do a surprise show was not difficult only because they were not good musicians, but also because it was a secret. Almost nobody knew about it. For the past 2 months, at least 5 days a week, they'd go into the music room of the school to rehearse. They'd bring their papers with notes, plans, chords, and whatnot. After two months of doing that, there was definitely progress. They had to perform in front of 300 people. For someone who disliked socializing much, that was Jack's biggest challenge. But Alfred had all this set, and the burden was his. He carried it, with his 13 years of life experience, not knowing how to deal with commitment, he carried it like Sisyphus. One day, as the janitor was doing his regular morning check, he peeked through the small window of the music room. Jack was playing his Ukulele and singing, while Alfred was drumming. At the peak of the moment, when both of them knew that this was going to work, Jack dropped the Ukulele on the floor. Alfred got next to him as he saw two huge mountains sliding down his father's cheeks. He knew why Jack was crying. He allowed his mountains to come down too. They hugged there for a while as the janitor walked away confused. Is there a larger mountain than the one that parents build for their children? Jack was aware of his place on Earth. He was a reasonable and a good father. He knew that the mountains he built for his children would be the opportunities he created for them. Will they overcome them? Up to them. This was a great opportunity for Jack to learn something new. But also to hang with his son in such a natural and dedicated way. They'd spend almost all Saturday mornings together. One such morning, as they both were in the car on their way back home, Alfred asked. “Dad. Do you think we're going to make it?” “Yes, we will. What do you mean? We're almost there…” “What if we don't? What if this is in vain?” Jack knew what Alfred was asking. “Nothing is in vain Freddy. We learn new things, we move with life and we face reality. What if things go for the better and it turns out we never used the opportunity to do something nice?” Alfred put his fingers over his eyes as if he could remove the redness and tears that filled them. Jack and Alfred did not work on their performance only together. After classes, Alfred continued exercising in the garage. When the kids were asleep Jack would pick the Ukulele up and pretend as if the day was not hard enough. They both knew they had to do this, like it or not. One day Olivia found a letter in their post box. “Oh wow. We are invited for a music show at the school, in 2 weeks”, she said. “Who is invited Mama?", Amanda asked. “All of us.” “The four of us?” “The four of us.” “What music show?" “It doesn't say.” On the invitation, signed was the school principal. Olivia packed the letter inside the envelope and put it in the drawer together with everything they didn't know where to put. Her voice trembled and her heart rushed. “Is that tears?” Amanda asked her. “Yes, but I am happy”. Just like any time that is filled with things to do, the next two weeks passed like a breeze. Two nights before the show was scheduled, the phone rang late in the night. Amanda and Alfred were asleep and Olivia was snoozing on the couch. Jack left his Ukulele on the wooden table and rushed to answer the phone. “Hello?" “Hi Jack, this is Dr. Pollerman.” “Good evening Doctor”. The blood in Jack's body froze. His heart stopped for ten whole seconds. The voice on the other side said something while Jack was calmly listening and after a while started breathing fast and deeply. Olivia woke up and jumped right there too. “What is it? Who is this?" “It's Dr. Pollerman”, Jack said wiping his nose. “What about it Jack, tell me what?”, Olivia kept asking as she noticed Jack was upset. “All good Mr. Pollerman, thanks for calling, I appreciate it. Yes, we will schedule…" Jack hung up. “It was Pollerman he got the results”, Jack said as he got close to Olivia and hugged her tightly and strongly, “She is clean. She is clean. She is clean…” he repeated uncontrollably. “Oh God…”, Olivia screamed. She couldn't believe it. They both sat on the floor next to the phone that rang just 2 minutes before. It's like that. A phone call, a meeting with a person, a turn on a crossroad. The things that change a whole lifetime. It was the first time after 9 months that they slept well. The next morning Jack and Alfred went to the school music room. Jack felt relieved for the first time there. “Alfred, there is something you should know. You are a really, really good brother you know?" Alfred didn't say anything. He took his drumming sticks off his bag and sat on his throne. “Dr. Pollerman called yesterday. He said the last results showed that everything is ok”. With one hand Alfred was leaving his bag leaning towards the floor. With the other, he held the sticks up. He froze in the moment. He threw everything on the ground and ran outside. Jack sat there in peace with what happened. After a while, Alfred came back with wet hair, red cheeks, and teary eyes. “Ok then, we need to step on this…", he said. The melody sounded completely different. They finished for the day and went home. On the day of the show, Olivia and Amanda dressed up and went to the show. “Hunny, Amanda. Alfred and Dad will come a bit later, we'll meet them at the school hall”, Olivia said. “Why Mom? Why can't they come with us?”, Amanda was asking. “Daddy had something to do, don't worry we'll meet them inside.” When they reached the school, Amanda's teacher greeted them and welcomed them in the hall. “I will show you your seats”, she said. They went inside where almost 300 other people waited. Amanda recognized a lot of them. Neighbors, schoolmates, their parents. They all waved at her and greeted her. Their spot was in the center of them all. “Nice seats Mom”, Amanda said. “Why Alfred and Dad are still not here?” “They will come, sweetie.” “But the show will start…” “They will be here any time soon, don't worry” Suddenly, the lights turned off and the audience went silent. On the left side of the stage, a spotlight appeared. The audience was silent. From behind the curtain, Jack came with his Ukulele. He was nervous and almost dropped it off his hands. He leaned towards the microphone and he went too close. “This is a little something we prepared". Amanda and Olivia looked at each other. “Mom! That's Dad”, said Amanda. “Yes. That's Dad” “What is he doing there?” “I don't know” Olivia knew how to keep the secret best of them all. Jack put his Ukulele in position and started playing. He played the intro and the audience liked it. He started singing, with a falsetto voice, completely in tune with the Uke. He was leaning over the microphone that was at least 10 centimeters below his mouth and sang with his eyes closed. He pretended he was alone in the school hall. That Olivia and Amanda were not in the audience and for a moment, he pretended that the past 9 months hadn't happened. The song developed and everyone could see him perform with passion, dedication, and a voice that had been trained for months before this show. One could notice the pride in what he was doing. He didn't care, he did it because he had to do it. As he continued singing, another spotlight appeared on the stage and showed Alfred sitting on his throne behind the drum. He was all sweaty and completely into what was happening. This was his thing. A stream of water was pouring down his face. One could not say if it was tears, sweat, or both. Alfred felt like floating. It was a combination of all the feelings he had gathered during the last months. It seemed as if he took them all and dumped them there, on the stage. At the climax of the performance, behind Jack and Alfred, on a large white screen, a projection of photos started rolling. All photos were from Amanda. They showed her in a hospital bed, with a bold head, with a scarf, with a hat, playing with other kids. She has been fighting cancer for the past 9 months. Olivia and Amanda looked at each other all teary, and without any words gave themselves an acknowledgement of what was going on. This show was for Amanda. There were maybe 100 photos shown of her, starting from her first steps in the hospital. As the song approached the end, huge letters showed on the screen. "Amanda. Cancer free." “Is this true Mom?”, she asked in tears. “Yes sweety, it's true”. Olivia's heart was pounding like Alfred's drum. The audience applauded in shock and ecstasy. Jack and Alfred finished the song and rushed to hug each other. They felt an iceberg sliding off their chests. They waved and called Amanda and Olivia on the stage. They all hugged for a while, crying and being grateful for what they had at that moment. In the room full of 300 other people, at that same moment, only 4 existed. “It was all Alfred's idea”, Jack told Amanda, “he thought of all this by himself”. Amanda looked at her brother as his eyes shined with brotherly pride. He was all wet. When he noticed she was looking at him, he just winked and pointed at her. Other people joined the stage. A lot of them spontaneously started singing and dancing. It was a celebration for Amanda. A celebration of life.

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Monday, May 23, 2022

In the middle of a village, below the mountains lived a man that had a beautiful garden. He enjoyed spending time there so much, that he felt it like a pet. It was a small one, 5 meters wide, 8 meters long with mixed plants, vegetables and fruits. In the middle of the garden there was a cherry tree, at the entrance from the main street there was a large pear tree. Every day at about 5, when his shift at the factory was ending, he'd rush at home to spend time in the garden. Especially when the weather was nice. The village where the man was living, was located under a narrow hill that was part of a broader mountain chain next to the Alps. The air was fresh, the water was clean, the live was full of small joys that the modern world had forgotten about. It was because of the village's location that so many tourists visited it every day, especially on weekends. Every time some of the tourists would notice the nice tidy and fruitful garden, the man was full of pride. "Yes, I took care of it since I was 23", he'd say, "Now I am 68, so you do the math". One sunny Saturday, a group of people approached his house and started taking photos. "Ahh look at the small fountain, it's so cute...", some said. "Are the pears edible?", another man asked. "Please, please, see, do not touch, all of these houses are private property", said the tour guide. The man heard the people talking and rushed towards the gate, slowing down his steps as he approached the group. "Would you like to have a pear?", he asked. "Well, they look quite delicious", said a woman from the group. The man reached towards the the tree and pulled 3 large pears. "Here, have some", he offered the group. Longest hands, first served. "Mm, These are delicious Mr.", someone said. "Do you live here permanently or just over the weekends?" "I live here since I was 23, now I am 68, how long do I live here?". The man's slyness was revealed by the shy smirk on his face. "Well, that's hell lot of time". The group took the opportunity to rest as they were observing the house and the garden for a while. "Don't you regret missing so much from the real world?", another man asked. "Regret? I am 68, what's there to regret about at this age? Did I miss something that would have made my life easier?" "Do you go to the city?" "Rarely. I've been 13 times in my whole life. All because of doctors and medicine". "Where did you live before your 23rd?", asked the man with authentic curiosity. "I lived with my parents in a village at the west of the land". "And your whole life you've been only about 15 times in the city?" "Even less!" "But sir, you are missing so much!", said the tourist shocked. "On what?" "Life, modern life. Things happen in the world you know. And before you know it, they might disappear. Don't you want to experience all that?" "Ah that modern world of yours", said the man. "You know what I am missing from that world? I miss my time. Because that world had thought me the wrong values that I carried for more than 20 years, until I turned 45 years old" "How so?" "You see this tree. When I planted it, I got so obsessed with it that I only cared about it. I'd do all the things to make it grow strong. I would wake up in the middle of the night just to check if everything was ok with it. At one point I was thinking "Would it be here when I am 40?" Then I turned 40 and the tree was there, all strong and beautiful. Just like my obsession with it. Then I'd buy all the expensive nutrition and protection for it that it cost me a fortune. Later I'd think "Would it be here when I am 60?". When I was 60 the tree was still there. All strong and beautiful. Its branches were full of leaves, and I have already lost all of my hair. I was bald. One day, I looked at the tree and its gorgeousness shined through the rays of the morning. And only then I noticed the other plants too, and my garden and my house. Everything was beautiful. But I missed most of it for the previous 40 years. That made me really sad. Those were the values I was taught in my early years, before I moved here. The books I read, the words I heard were all about working, doing just enough so that we start really doing once we get old. And the truth is, some of us don't make it to get old." The group stood there in silence. They were shocked by the truth that was spoken straight into their ears. Finally the tour guide interrupted the silence. "Ok, we must be going, thanks for the nice talk Mr.". The man stood at the entrance of the garden, looked at the tree and waved the group goodbye. When the night finally came, he put an old hay pillow over the wooden bed and laid down resting. He fell asleep dreaming of the years and the times he could have enjoyed, but missed them, obsessing with something that was out of his control.

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Wednesday, February 16, 2022

My father carried me for miles already. It was snowing and the coldness was pinching our cheeks. He made a carry belt out of two old scarves, put it over his neck, and used it to hold me as I was too young and could not walk in the deep snow. We must have been on the road for hours. I was only four years old when that happened. I didn't understand much. My father was smiling at every look directed at him. Or at least he was trying to. He looked exhausted and sick. His beard was grey and unshaven, and without any form. The look in his eyes was betrayed by the heavy eyebags and wrinkles that formed during our journey. "Daddy?", I said, "Can I have some water?". He didn't think twice. Immediately he found a tree under which we hid from the falling snow and put me over his bag. "Wait here a bit". Then he pulled an empty flask from his bag and went downhill close to the river to get some water. He came back and handed me the flask. “Here, just don't drink it fast, it's cold!” I tried a bit but I couldn't drink. I gave the flask back. He had a sip. "Daddy? How long until we get there?" "I don't know sweety. If we keep going I hope to be there in three days. There will be warm. Be patient. We'll arrive soon". I didn't understand much. I was just hanging on his carry-belt scarf. How could I understand? I didn't understand love, care, what has to be done, what doesn't. I was four. As we continued going through the valley, my father took a warmer blouse from the bag and put it on me. "Keep this for now, it's getting cold", he said. We walked for a while before we reached a large curve on the road. It was not the distance that tired my father, nor the soft snow through which he was walking, or the freezing weather that we were exposed to. It was the worry of what was expecting us once we arrived. People are not completely certain of what they'll face once they go on such a long journey. No matter how much my father wanted to cheer me up, his face revealed his fears. He was indeed afraid of the distance, the soft snow through which he had to walk, and the 14 kilos he had to carry on his neck. As we walked almost half the curve my father noticed a man laying on the snow under a tree, near the road made of steps. We approached him. "Hey! Are you awake?", my father yelled. He didn't get any answer. He put me down over his bag and immediately ran toward the person. He grabbed him by his jacket. "Can you hear me? Mister?" The man was not responding. I was watching from the distance. What could I do? My father came back to me and from the bag pulled off another bottle full of hot water. He knew what we were going to go through. Otherwise, why would he have hot water in his back otherwise? He put some of it over his hands and started to rub them. He hugged the other person close and put his hands first over his face and then over his chest. Then took the bottle with warm water and poured some of it down the man's throat. He repeated that a few times. After a while, the other man inhaled strongly. "What is happening?", asked the stranger. "You were freezing to death. We found you unconscious. I had to warm you up so that your blood starts flowing again", my father explained. The stranger sat there for a while before he finally recovered. "Can I have some water?", asked the man. My father passed him the flask with water. He drank almost all of it. "Where are you going?" "We go thirty miles away from here, you wouldn't know.", said my father. "Are you bringing the child all the way from the village?". "Yes, she is my daughter". "Not sure how you're gonna go through this storm with that weight. Maybe find a place to rest", he proposed. "No place to rest nearby", said my father as he started preparing to continue our trip. "Maybe it'd be better for you if you come with us now?". The stranger stared at my father as if he heard some bad news, and not as if someone just saved his life. Right before we left, he jumped on his feet. "I am coming with you. I will be walking until we have to split". We continued walking, right after the curve and a large narrow valley showed up in front of us. There is something worse than cold and snow. It's cold, snow and wind. And this valley was about to hit us hard. Indeed, the wind hit us hard. From time to time, it felt as if my father was losing it. Then he'd stand strong and continue walking in a narrowed position, down the valley. "Just for a bit more, sweety". "Uh, this is not going to be a bit. Look at this ugliness. Looks like a death valley", the stranger said. "We're gonna make it, just keep tough", my father tried to outwit the wind. How could he carry me through this weather? I don't understand it to this day. The coldness is not scary when you know where you're going, but this one was. Even for me, as courageous as a four-year-old could be. I would occasionally look over my father's snowy face to see if he was still smiling. He'd smile, and when he thought I didn't see him anymore, he'd frown. He was terrified but never showed that as a feeling. He had one goal in mind, and that goal was not getting to our destination. It was crossing the snowy and windy valley. The stranger was right, it was ugly. It took hours until the weather started to look normal. Or at least the same as before we went down the valley. "What is worse Daddy? Going down or up the valley?", I asked him. "It's the same if you're not moving at all, isn't it?", he said. I could not understand him then, but now I do. "If you go down, your legs are gonna hurt, if you go up, your back. That is the only difference. When you move, there's gotta be pain.", he said. When we reached the lowest point in the valley my father said we had to eat. "Do you have any food?", my father asked the stranger. "I have just three pieces of bread". "Well, three people, three pieces of bread, and I will get some fish from the river", said my father. "If you could both each just one piece I'd be very grateful, I have a long way ahead and I cannot stay without any food". "Sure, no problem", said my father. He then put his bag down, put me over it, and went towards the river. The stranger sat next to me and looked at me awkwardly. He didn't know how to deal with kids. He was even afraid of me. Luckily my father came back very soon, with 2 large fish on a stick. "Can you make a fire?", asked the stranger. "No, nobody can make a fire in this place". Everything was covered in snow and every once in a while the wind was reminding us that we were the guests there. "We eat them alive", my father continued. He tore off one of the fish with a knife he kept in his pocket, cleaned up a piece of meat, and put it in the piece of bread that the man gave him. He then passed it to me. "Here sweety, eat this". He then took the remaining fish and started cleaning a piece for him. He ate that piece in one bite. He turned to the stranger and noticed that he had already eaten all of the other fish. Together with his bread. I will never forget that my father ate only a bite of raw fish that day, after carrying me for almost 20 miles on his neck, saving a stranger's life, and going through a few hours-long fight with snow, wind, and coldness. I looked him straight in the eyes. He saw that. "Don't worry, I am all good, I had enough before we went off", he said. The stranger finished his meal and sat next to my father. "But where are you going anyway?". "We are going to the lighthouse at the end of the cape". "Uh, that's like 45 more miles away from here, you know?". "We'll get there", said my father looking at me smiling. "And what business does a man with a small child have there?" "A business of his own", my father said. "Will you be carrying that child all the way through?" "Yes, I will". "What if you die?", asked the stranger. "I must not die, I have to carry her back". "How can you know, look at the weather, how cold it is". "Now, you don't care about us, make sure you don't fall asleep again on the road", said my father. "Why don't you let the child walk herself?" "She is too young and the snow is difficult to walk through, even for me". The night calmly fell. I remember the feeling of not having to ask us for permission. We had to comply with that. I felt sleepy and my father already knew that. "Dad, I want to sleep". "Let me find something to put you to sleep". "Can you watch after her for a while, I will be right back", I overheard my father from the distance. He then vanished into the darkness. The stranger came close and sat next to me. I felt very uncomfortable with him. As the darkness overtook the valley, the weather got much worse. I stood up to see if my father was coming, but I couldn't. How could I? I was too short. The stranger fixed his eyes on me for a while. "Don't worry now, Daddy will be back.", he said with hesitation. It's been a whole already. And my father was still not back. "Now, where is your father?" I didn't know. I couldn't. I just wanted Daddy to be there next to me. I was sleepy. It felt like hours since he left. Suddenly, as we waited there in our spot, we heard a loud animal roar, something like a moose or a bear. My hair got up. "What could that be?", the stranger asked. We waited for some more time there but nothing happened. Then the stranger stood up and came very close to me. "You see kid, looks like Daddy's not coming back. That loud noise we heard, I bet that was a bear tearing him off. I cannot imagine that a man could survive an animal attack over here. Now I owe that father of yours a lot. If he was not there at the right time, I would have died. The least I can offer is that you come with me. But I cannot carry you just like he did, do you understand me?". I nodded as I sat on the rug made of my father's bag. I will never forget how afraid I felt at that moment. "Is Daddy coming back?", I asked. "No. Most probably not", said the stranger. "Do you want to come with me?" I shook my head no. "It's your choice dear, but that bear that ate Daddy, will come here for more". "Daddy's coming back.", I said. "Not sure about that". "He will". The stranger finally picked up his things, and once again came close to me. He leaned over and from the bag took the bottle of warm water and the extra blouse my father carried just in case. He then put his finger on his nose and disappeared into the darkness. I could not see anything anymore. As the snow started falling again, crashing over the last hopes I had to see my father, I fell on my knees and started crying bitterly. I could not cry any other way, how could I? I was only four years old. I felt afraid and sad. As I was sobbing, in the middle of nowhere, a silhouette of an unknown man appeared in front of me. "Is this a bear?", I was thinking. I closed my eyes and waited in silence. Then as I was about to fall, the man came very close, threw a dead animal over the snow next to me, and hugged me tight. "You are cold sweetheart I know... sorry for taking so long", my father said. "Daddy?", I looked at him. It was him. I could feel his warmth and the smell of his breath. He smiled and this time he meant it. He held me tight and then covered me with what seemed to be the fur of a bear. He went inside too. We both fell asleep immediately. When we woke up, the dawn already brightened the valley. We got out of the fur and saw the mess that the stranger left before robbing us and leaving. "He took your warm clothes and the bottle of warm water". "It'd be a pity if that stops us now from going on", my father said firmly. "Daddy, where did you find this bear fur?". "This is not bear's fur darling. It's a deer. I had to kill it, unfortunately, otherwise, we'd freeze to death", he said. "It took some time to clean it from the inside and bring it here, that is why I got back so late". Poor father. He went so far away, had no idea what he was after, only to find this huge deer and kill it so that we had a place to sleep. Had he not done that, we'd be dead by now. I for sure. "And Daddy, what are we going to eat?" "Be patient sweety, let's go for a bit and then we figure out what to eat". My father collected our things in the bag, put it on his back, and took me over the scarf that was already hanging on his neck. We continued our journey. I sat there in his scarf, in the coldness of the weather, warmed by his determination and body warmth. My father's scarf was my savior, but it was his burden. A punishment worse than crucifixion, without any guilt. That day, my father carried me for 15 more miles.

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Monday, December 6, 2021

I died yesterday. A bus hit me. I didn't see it. I was rushing to catch up my mother in law's birthday dinner. My family was waiting for me. My wife and two children. The driver did nothing wrong. She was not driving fast, neither drove through a crosswalk. I must have jumped in-front of the bus out of nowhere. I don't remember. The irony was that the dinner was not even ready. Nobody was waiting for me. Nobody rang on my phone. It was me that was rushing. The bus hit me on my right side. It broke most of my ribs, my legs and tore my head hard. I was bleeding in pain and agony. So many thoughts, so many moments. So many missed opportunities. When something like this happens you think about everything that life prepares you for. And this is not part of it. Schools don't teach us how to die. Neither churches and mosques. Nobody talks about death and those that do talk have no idea. It always comes as a surprise, the biggest one of them all. And it sucks. As I was trying to figure out if somebody is going to help me, one figure approached very close to me. Picked me up and started talking to me. "Can you hear me?", the person asked. I couldn't answer. My words were forming but I couldn't express them. The figure was a man, 50 or something, grey hair, strong grasp. He caught me strong and pulled me onto the pavement. "Take it easy, an ambulance is coming", he said. People started to gather around. I slowly raised my head to see the point of the impact. There was blood stain on the asphalt. And the front of the bus was damaged. Is my head that strong? "How many fingers do you see?", the guy asked me. "Four", I tried to answer. "You see, you are doing much better", he said. "Can you try to stand up now?" I couldn't standup. I tried to move my legs but nothing. "I cannot. Can you please call my wife", I said as the air became colder. "I will, what is her number?", he asked. "Reach to my pocket for my phone. I don't remember". He took my phone. Used my finger to unlock it and called my wife. "Hi. This is Smoke...", he introduced himself and explained to her what happened. He was quite calm. He told her to come at the ER and tried to comfort her. Who was this guy? "All good. Stay laying there.. things are gonna get better for you now.", he said. "How do you know that?", I asked. "Things always get better, don't they?", he laughed and looked towards the street. "Well not for me I guess...", I said. The pain was growing. My breath was becoming harder. "Things become harder right before they get easier.", he laughed. I looked at him for a bit. He was very happy with what he was doing. "Why do you do this?", I asked. "Because humans help to each other." "Looks like you are the only one wanting to help me", I said. "I am the one that really cares, true.". "But why do you care?". He grasped over my body stronger and sat on the pavement right next to me. "Here, lay here over me, it's softer..", he said. I was there. Laying on the pavement with a stranger that wanted to help me. I started thinking that he is an imposter. That he is taking an advantage of the situation and then will do something to my family. "Sir, when did my wife say will come here?", I asked. "Don't worry about it, she will arrive soon". "But sir, who are you?", I asked. "I am here to help you, don't worry.. take it easy..", he said calm. "Well in case something happens, can you tell me who you are just in case?", I asked. "Sure, my name is Smoke. I live at the same address as you, if all this goes well, you will find me there", he said. "Same address as me?", I asked surprised. I have never seen this person. And if I know something really good, that is my neighbourhood. This guy is definitely an imposter. "What is the building and floor you are living at?", I asked him. He stood there quiet, still taking care of me. "Look, you make this difficult for everyone, try to relax?", he said. "Relax?", I managed to push his hand off of my chest. "Please tell me who are you?". Smoke put his hand on his knee. "Well I am everyone you know and everything you do. All your experiences and all your knowledge. I am your mind.", he said. "I am here to make things easier for you". "This is nonsense.. to make what things easier?", I asked confused. "You are dying. I am a person that your mind created in an attempt to survive. We know how to interact with human beings the best. As you are dying, I am running out of ideas on how to help you, so I thought talking to someone will make it easier...". "I am dying?", I said scared. "Well, isn't it obvious?", Smoke said. I raised my head again and saw an ambulance coming. The group of curious people was already broken by the medics and police. A body was lying in-front of the bus, not moving. "Oh my god, I am dying!" My breath became fast. My thoughts became fogged, my vision turned blurry. "Help me, I am choking.", I told Smoke. "So what?" "I will die....", I said. "Not more than you will die anyway". At that moment all of my fear dissolved into peace. All of my panic and anxiety turned into a feeling of calmness. The death destroyed all of my fears. The words of Smoke made it clear. This is happening. There is no need to be afraid. The fear will not make it stop. It's inevitable. "So why did my brain create you?", I asked. "People say that when you are dying, you see your whole life in front of your eyes. Well that's not quite true. You see the things you choose to see. To re-experience. Your mind goes through all of its knowledge and experience it has gained through your life, to find a way to survive. The last drop of hope for it to help you. In your case, it worked a wonder. It created me. So I am here now to bring you there, to your safe place.", Smoke explained. "And what is my safe place?" “Your safe place is an experience you want to go through one more time before the curtains shut. Your mind is an amazing organ. It's unique that it can act upon the perception on time. If you choose to have the past 20 years as your safe place, your mind will make it look as if it's another life-time. Then you will re-live those years. If you choose the last time you ate ice-cream as your safe place, it's gonna be stretched to a life-time experience. It's like a first-class treatment from your mind. It is a unique way to say goodbye”. I stood silent. I was not sure where I even was. "Did you even call my wife?", I asked. "No. That was all in your head. A death-dream". "She doesn't know I will die?" "No. She doesn't. That's the best for all I guess", he said. "So.. what's gonna be?", he asked. "What's gonna be what?" "What's your safe place?" Things were calm. My breath was calm. I could feel its rhythm in sync with my heartbeat. They were both slow, getting slower. I didn't try to avoid it. Any thought that scared me or made me sad, angry or happy. All I was thinking of was my family. My two beautiful children and my lioness wife. I wanted to see them again. "My life was really nice. It was complete with people and things. It was incomplete with time", I started. "All the way through it, I was always looking for more time. I was rushing to get there. I was chasing situations to happen so that I can start living. I never started living now. I was waiting for it to happen. And that caused a lot of anxiety and stress. Made me feel scared and sad. Right now things make so much sense. The fears are no more, the expectations are gone. I could find that peace only at one other place in my life: my grandma's home in summer. If I ever want to experience something again is that calmness, together with my family. I choose my safe place to be that house in the beginning of June. My grandparents will be there and my uncle too. They will see us parking our car outside and they will come at the front door to greet us. Then I will hug them. I will feel the smell and warmth of theirs. Then I will introduce them to my family. "This is my wife I really love. These are my children, mischiefing little piglets" I will say. Then we'll go inside and the smell of yogurt and cucumber mixed with freshly chopped garlic will fill in our nostrils. Kids will ask what smells so nice. I will give them to try the food. Then once we finish the main dish, we'll have our dessert. A nice smelling watermelon. We'll eat it and tell a lots of jokes. The feeling would be complete, nothing more would be needed other than that small house with a small room, that can suit 10 people or so. Then we'll announce rest-time and go upstairs to take some noon nap. The cushions will be cold and soft. The summer covers will be silky. The smell will be a mixture of a smell of old books and old furniture. After an hour we will wake up and go at the yard. My grandma will be laughing seeing us. My grandpa will ask me to bring him water from the yard-fountain. Then we will sit under the house's shadow until the sun falls down. The kids will be playing in the yard, we will be talking, drinking coffee and eating my grandma's sweets. And this will be everything that we will be doing for one whole summer. Then when the summer ends, we will go. We will say our goodbyes and the hopes that we will meet again somewhere and sometime. But if we don't then we can make ourselves, each-other, live into our thoughts. The one that will survive the last will carry the burden of the memory. Right before the summer ends, I will go and kiss my kids, hug them and say few words as an advice. Then I will go and lay down my wife's lap and fall asleep there as she will put her hands in my hair. It'd be the safest place for me to come to the end of the summer. And that will be my safe-place." "Ok. You got that right. That is your safe place. That is where you will wake up tomorrow. It was a pleasure to be your mind by the way. You were always onto something, and I really enjoyed your reactiveness your whole life. What you managed to live through is something many others would not for over 100 years. Be calm, be happy. Now close your eyes. Let your breath easy. That's it.", said Smoke. The noises disappeared. The voices were silent. A heavy curtain fell. The darkness overtook. The next morning started just like any other day. "Are you ready?", I asked my kids. "Ready for what?", my son asked. "To meet your grand-grand parents" "We do it today? We are going there today?", my daughter asked. "Yes! We go to visit them today. And you know what? We will stay there for the whole summer." "Oh, daddy that is so amazing!", they both exclaimed. We took the car to theirs house. As we approached the small street thoughts started to get really heavy. I haven't been there for some time. We came close to my grandma's house. Then right in front of theirs front-door. I honked. Then I parked the car. My grandma, grandpa and uncle came at the main door. They were cheerful and smiling, overly excited. We got out of the car. I hugged them very strong. All three of them. "I missed you so much", I said as tears rolled down my face. “How's are you?” "This is my wife I really love. These are my children, mischiefing little piglets.", I said. All of them hugged there for a moment. Then we went inside. "This summer is going to be amazing", I thought.

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