the afternoon mamma Barbara asks me to bring Karl and Oswald some newspapers and food. Theyâre busy on the disaster site with some professionals.
Iâd prefer not to go because Iâm a little scared after all that fire in the night, what if itâs still there, what if it starts again when I arrive.
But on the other hand my sense of adventure incites me to go see for myself what happened, if the cows and the sheep are still in one piece or if theyâve been roasted as in a country fair.
As I cautiously get nearer, Oswald comes towards me, I give him the newspapers and the food, he must be hungry.
I still havenât understood what the newspapers are for, actually they donât look like newspapers, theyâre more like magazines I think.
I look up towards the roof which doesnât exist anymore, thereâs nothing left but the skeleton of the larger wooden beams, pitch-black and eaten-up, looking like a coal structure made by an eccentric and misunderstood artist.
Waterdrops are still hanging here and there, undecided whether to fall to their doom or not, as if afraid of heights. The acrid smell of varnished, burnt, wet woodâs still very much present in the air, itâs a smell Iâll remember forever.
This has certainly been the most shocking event of my short life, itâs waken us in the middle of the night. Days go slowly by, I donât know what theyâve decided to do, whether they want to build a new barn, or if they have another solution. Next time grandma comes Iâll surely have something to talk about.
Itâs been two weeks already since grandma Annaâs last visit, but now sheâs probably slightly postponed her next trip because of the fire.
Days and weeks pass, but no news from grandma yet, and this worries me, so I ask mamma Barbara:
âWhen will grandma come? She hasnât come in a long while.â
âI really donât know, I havenât heard from her yet, we
happened to have a chat some time ago, but she couldnât
tell me when she was going to come.â
âI hope nothing bad happened in the meanwhile.â
âAs soon as I hear something Iâll let you know, donât worry,
she mustâve been busy with the fields, the crop.â
The kids that were with us in the summer have all left, as usual theyâve only stayed for two or three weeks at most, Oswald and Waltraud are at school from morning till early afternoon. Karlâs busy the whole day with the stable, in the afternoon he takes a nap for a few hours on the sofa.
So in the morning itâs always just me and Barbara, either at home or, when sheâs got work to do, in the garden. The sunflowersâ heads are down now, the seeds are all ripe in their circles, embedded within the pale-yellow petals.
I often go play outside in the morning, sometimes I go snooping around our house. One of our neighbours has a beautiful garden, where I enjoy going for walks and smelling the scents of the various plants and flowers that grow there.
The owner lets me in whenever I like, the entrance is a black wrought-iron gate, full of strange ornaments, spirals, roses and other flowers.
A narrow pathway marked by thousands of white pebbles leads me around, there are iron arcs all along the way, covered by vines and big roses of many different colours, red, pink, white, yellow. As I pass by them they give off an inebriating scent, itâs like a journey across various fragrances, there are also exotic plants and palms.
On the sides, every now and then, I encounter tiny statues, cheerful dwarves, chalk fawns, little fountains and water features. I feel like in a fairy tale, I wish I could stay here forever, I sit on a bench swinging my legs for a bit, and I think again about the possible reasons why grandma hasnât come yet.
Usually, Saturdayâs the day Barbara gives me a full bath, in a plastic tub on the kitchen table.
Todayâs Monday, and itâs morning, I know we donât have to go anywhere in particular. I leave the fairy garden, I try to shut the gate but the handle doesnât work well.
Maybe itâs because the owner has put too much varnish on it, so it gets stuck a little and canât go all the way, so I simply push it back against the frame and leave it unlocked.
Iâve even managed not to get dirty, Iâve only gone for a walk and Iâve sat on the clean bench for a while, so I donât even need to wash.
I call Barbara to tell her Iâve arrived:
âMum, Iâm coming, is lunch ready?â
I canât hear her reply, I enter by the gate, I close it calmly, it too doesnât shut too well, itâs a little rusty. I open the front door and I get in, I take off my shoes, mamma Barbara comes towards me from the kitchen, she kneels down and hugs me.
She takes me in her arms and kisses me again and again:
âI know you love me, but is something wrong?â
âIâm just happy to hug you, Iâll always love you.â
It has kind of taken me by surprise, Iâve gone out in the courtyard to play for a while, I could feel in her hug that something was off.
In her cheeks I can see a concern for something sad and melancholy, she can hardly hold her tears, she smiles at me:
âNow, letâs eat something, then weâll get dressed. You must
go with Karl, heâll drive you to a place.â
âAnd where is that, I want to stay here, I donât have to go
anywhere, are we driving to the ice-cream shop?â
âYes, you could get an ice-cream, but I donât know about
later.â
I donât eat much and neither does she, we arenât hungry anymore, she clears the table and gets the bath tub.
Things are getting serious, itâs not even Saturday, Iâm not dirty, and sheâs preparing the tub on the table for a bath.
Iâm scared, itâs fishy to put it mildly, I try to act normal and say to her:
Mum, Iâm going out to play again, Iâm not hungry anymore.â
Everything starts looking misty and blurry, no, itâs not raining outside, itâs raining on my face, big, warm teardrops as big as peanuts.
I can hardly speak among sobs, she replies:
âNo, you canât go out now, youâll be late, Iâve got to wash you and dress you
