Harsch blows April gusty wind through my thinning hair. Determined is the evening set boring headache. Despite all this, I will not get used to myself to be an old woman. No more jumping barefoot along the beaten Lehmweg to be bitter, but I allow myself the least bit of freedom disheveled hair on my walk. Open eyes for my environment and yet, like old people now are so time and again lost in thoughts of the past, I stroll on ...
On the playground in our town I stopped. There can certainly stay well to enjoy a few last rays of the sun. I find an empty bench. Three mothers are sitting on a and other smoke. Beautifully decked out small children are undecided on the edge of the sandbox. The driver of a pink baby gear lying around glittering with broken glass around the bet.
"No," shouts one of the women harshly over the place, "do not go in there, you're dirty!"
remains a little girl are abruptly turned, wondering around and then slowly moves away from the sand pit towards the climbing frame.
No one had noticed our leave. The adults were on their early evening chores busy to take care of our disappearance. Mother supplied her old father, bedridden father lived in the attic and chopping wood behind the shed.
Friedel, the eldest, he went to school since last summer, slipped from first shoes and stockings. We did the same and yet also rolled up our filthy, damp trouser legs. Spring at last! There was a smell of freshly cut clover and adventure. The air was filled with the chirping of sparrows, larks singing and Kibitzgeschrei. But we did not care.
Hans whined. The youngest was the wet grass too cold. So I pulled him caring socks and shoes back on.
hooves sounded from a distance! Bright, metallic and piercing it was coming closer. Then heard We curses and loud crack of a whip. A cart came! Immediately he was there.
Flink we hid behind the milk bench and waited. Evi giggled.
"Pssst! Else's trouble". Friedel covered her mouth.
Bauer Randers hiefte several heavy cans zinc on the oak planks. He turned the wagon and no longer grumpy Haflinger trotted towards facilitating the native food stall and filled eaves.
Evi took a dented soup ladle, which she had pilfered from the home, laughing and knocked on the wood. Friedel had great difficulty in the battered cover of one of the cans removed. Finally! My sister was allowed to drink first. Then little Hans. And then Friedel. Impatiently I waited until I was finally his turn. How well the milk tasted. She was still warm, very greasy and smelled a little beet silage. We drank alternately spoon to scoop and quenched our thirst. Later, there was no dinner that was certain. Finally, we were prohibited from such punishment, moved to irruption of dawn to around outside. So get a few gulps. This made full.
are chattering on the mothers. One of the children is on the wheel, can be pushed to the fence. Wheels squeaking. One of the women brought drinking packet distributed to the children, another red-white wrapped chocolate bar. Paper and cigarette butts are thrown away. As the crowd passes by me, I catch a few snatches of conversation.
"... will only eat sweets. Or pasta with ketchup."
"... will wash their clothes immediately afterwards. I do not come afterwards. Enduring she sits in the dirt."
"In kindergarten, she was now out in the field. The grass stains" I get no more out ".
"Catherine repeal Do not!. This is Bah, come at last! DC's Sandman."
direct TURNS about us the only Street light of the asphalt road. It was so late? Two cats slowly crept closer, crouched timidly and gently licking a few drops of milk to be trampled grass. Hurry home! We started to run without being noticed that we had forgotten shoes and stockings.
mother was waiting grimly at the door.
"Well, you bully! Where have you traveled and you again? THE father had not explicitly prohibited?"
Hans crowed, before I was able to keep his mouth: "We were drinking milk Evi's got tufts had."
mother mine was still gloomy. Then she scolded from us harshly. But of course - we had to wash ourselves, and were sent to bed without supper. Mother was while on his way to pick up our shoes. Giggling, we moved into our bunks and whispered for a long time from our adventurous spring outing. Hans was already asleep soundly. Sometime late in the evening, I heard mother out back and forth on the farm go. They cleaned out the oven. The iron door quitschte penetrating. Tomorrow there would be fresh bread.
sparkling glass shards in the neon light of the many street lights around me. With difficulty I get up and shuffle from the playground. My back hurts, your legs do not get going. I'm cold. On the way I met a caravan of young people. They drink alternately from a bottle. A black plastic monster, one of the boys carried on the shoulder pops, bass and stuttering speech-song in the formerly peaceful spring evening. I turn away and go home.
paralyzing silence greets me. My first handle - turn on TV - broadcast news.
"... in the attack were killed over eighty people and well over a hundred injured, including many children. UN troops cordoned the area off a wide area. And now the weather ..."
I lubricated my bread listen to the forecasts and weather warnings for the North Frisian Islands and sit in front of the TV. Equivalent to a thriller. Some tension in the sadness and loneliness I can do well, even though I probably will like almost every night to sleep on the film.
The next morning my father shook awake. Friedel was already on his way to school, Hans was snoring softly. Still half asleep, blinking, I got a slap in the face.
"This is to ensure that you are not accepted. And for stealing! As punishment, you son today in the hen house and allow you a week has not from the farm. Alas, I found you! Friedel is now clean bikes! And although all! "
Then I got a blunt thump, which drove me out of bed.
I got dressed quickly. In the kitchen, sweating mother moved with a large wooden spoon around in a vat. Today was laundry day. Water droplets hissed on the stove top and orange flames licked ablaze by a gap between the stove rings. It smelled of soap after birch wood and freshly grated. Stumm, tears welling slip away, waiting for new rant, I ate a sandwich with crispy fresh-scooped Quark.
"Because you know what father said, that march in the henhouse!" Interrupted my mother drove me dumb and Breakfast together with the bread on the farm.
The mucking lasted until noon. I struggled with integrity. Several times tipped the wheelbarrow to the smelly cargo or remained on the muddy ground by putting the manure pile. Father was long gone into the forest and sawed there rotten, from spring storm felled beech logs into firewood.
mother sent me with his lunch to the grove. Filled with cooking utensils, I moved I los.Wie his recent outburst was afraid! But that was unfounded. His anger had evaporated. Once there, he showed me laughing a few random plover eggs. One of them ausschlürfen I get to the other he kept for the mother. Everything was well again.
On the way back I met Friedel. I saw him from afar on the rusty bike too big bike along the dirt road. The wheel flew to the grave-edge, school bag next to it. And then we waded through shallow chattering, ice-cold water. We discovered the first tadpoles of this year. Some had even small black Vorderbeinchen. Friedel pulled out his breakfast box. We drew water into it and a few animals. Long we were sitting in the grass and watch the lurching swim the frog babies. Later, we caught more sedges and water scorpions. We forgot the time. When we finally made our fishing on the way home it dawned it already.
was time father at the gate. We got the expected slaps, but at least after dinner. However, we had to eat out for punishment while standing, then wash and straight to bed. That made us but for nothing. While parents chatted quietly with each other in the kitchen, slipped out Friedel. He took his breakfast box from the luggage carrier and pilfered a jar from the basement. Later, we observed a long lag in the glow of a flashlight around swimming tadpoles in our new aquarium.
the morning I shower long and hard. The radio droning any advertising that only comfort in my morning solitude. Bright children's laughter, then promises a squeaky voice-round health by multivitamin juice.
is gray and foggy out there. It is drizzling. This time with a hat, I'm on my way. First, the baker. Too late. Sandwiches are made. There I meet a neighbor. She wants the supermarket. I accompany them and buy a few little things. Sausage, cheese and hot baked bread and buns from the bakery shop. Then we go to pick up my cleaning and linen.
A bus stops next to us. Noisy and crowded school children out almost simultaneously. I see three teenage girls who take turns watching over their shoulders while giggling tap little palm-sized devices. Buzzing melody sound. Those things make music yes! A young boy joined them himself. Digs his hand a black plastic piece out and holds it at eye level in front of the girls. The thing is a short "click" on its own. Re-giggle. Now all bow to the device. That's apparently even photographs.
My neighbor says goodbye. She wants to go home for the elderly by visiting her senile sister. The bed linen is heavy. I wish I had taken my trolley. Just around the next corner, I'm finally at home.
There! Hooves! Bright, piercing and metal. Glossy brown Trotting horses. Pull a wedding carriage.
It sounds like back then.
Yes, everything was better back then. And now I have an appetite for a glass of milk.
(c) Elke Kemna
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