I didn’t mean to…’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. Can I see?’
She came and had a closer look at one of the braids.
‘Just like when you were young, I remember it well.’ She had a beaming smile on her face. ‘Do you like pancakes?’
I nodded and placed my hands in my lap again. Straight backed and with my stomach as flat as possible I stayed seated, quietly. What should I do? What did she expect me to do? Would this be when the accusations came? Maybe Auntie wanted to wait with that till after the meal? I closed my eyes and shuddered.
‘Come and have a look, Maria.’
I quickly rose and walked to her.
‘I’ll just show you where everything is, so you’ll be able to find your way in this kitchen.’
‘Dishes, pots and pans are obvious of course,’ Auntie said as she gestured towards the plate rack. The spoons hung there as well, and underneath them was a blue pan shelving unit. The pots and pans were on the top shelf and on the lower shelf were the lids. Just as I remembered from when I was young.
Auntie moved toward the large kitchen cabinet and opened up the doors.
‘This is where I store my sugar, salt and flour. There are more things in this cabinet, so feel free to take your time one of these days and see what’s all in here.’ She closed the cabinet and walked toward the little steps that led to the ‘opkamer’, a room that was built at a slightly raised floor level to accommodate a cellar below. She swung the steps upward, which allowed her to open the door to the cellar.
‘I’m sure you’ll remember this.’
I followed her down into the cellar and saw in the semi-dark shelves along the walls, filled with canning jars and Cologne preserving pots. These canning jars were all filled.
‘You have plenty of stock, Auntie.’
She turned and looked at me, smiling.
‘Yes, and now we can enjoy eating it all together.’ I turned back to the four steps that led us back up to the kitchen.
‘We’ll eat soon, would you mind setting the table?’
I nodded and took two dishes from the plate shelf, found utensils and two mugs for milk. Auntie disappeared again into the cellar and emerged with butter and a jar of jam. She pulled a pot of sugar from the cabinet as well and soon we sat down to eat. I watched how Auntie asked for a blessing over her meal. With eyes wide open I looked at her face, the round red cheeks, the slightly moving lips. She looked beautiful and kind, I thought.
6
A untie has not yet condemned me and seems to be a kind woman. Sometimes I wonder if some of her traits may be found in my mother, very deeply hidden away. Sometimes it is obvious to me that they are sisters who are very much alike, yet other times they seem to me so totally different that you would think there was no family connection between them at all. I have told Auntie as much as I could about her sister. She seems happy to finally know more about what has been happening over the past ten years, there has been such distance for so long. I can’t help but wonder if things are the same for me. Do I no longer exist to my mother, or to him who calls me his daughter? Have I been forever erased from their memories, and do they tell their friends that I have died, have disappeared? The idea of it frightens me, because, if they proclaim me dead, then what am I, who am I?
During the following days I noticed that I looked forward to good meals and I felt more and more energized. It was peculiar, but it seemed as if only here at the farm, my stomach started to grow, as if only now there was room for it, room for my shame. I also felt less exhausted, and when Auntie asked me if I would like to help her harvesting the apples and pears, I nodded. My mind went back to my younger days. I could almost smell the pan of stewed pears.
The next day we started picking fruit. When we had finished looking after the animals, Auntie took the wheelbarrow. She handed me the picking tool and asked if I was ready to
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. Can I see?’
She came and had a closer look at one of the braids.
‘Just like when you were young, I remember it well.’ She had a beaming smile on her face. ‘Do you like pancakes?’
I nodded and placed my hands in my lap again. Straight backed and with my stomach as flat as possible I stayed seated, quietly. What should I do? What did she expect me to do? Would this be when the accusations came? Maybe Auntie wanted to wait with that till after the meal? I closed my eyes and shuddered.
‘Come and have a look, Maria.’
I quickly rose and walked to her.
‘I’ll just show you where everything is, so you’ll be able to find your way in this kitchen.’
‘Dishes, pots and pans are obvious of course,’ Auntie said as she gestured towards the plate rack. The spoons hung there as well, and underneath them was a blue pan shelving unit. The pots and pans were on the top shelf and on the lower shelf were the lids. Just as I remembered from when I was young.
Auntie moved toward the large kitchen cabinet and opened up the doors.
‘This is where I store my sugar, salt and flour. There are more things in this cabinet, so feel free to take your time one of these days and see what’s all in here.’ She closed the cabinet and walked toward the little steps that led to the ‘opkamer’, a room that was built at a slightly raised floor level to accommodate a cellar below. She swung the steps upward, which allowed her to open the door to the cellar.
‘I’m sure you’ll remember this.’
I followed her down into the cellar and saw in the semi-dark shelves along the walls, filled with canning jars and Cologne preserving pots. These canning jars were all filled.
‘You have plenty of stock, Auntie.’
She turned and looked at me, smiling.
‘Yes, and now we can enjoy eating it all together.’ I turned back to the four steps that led us back up to the kitchen.
‘We’ll eat soon, would you mind setting the table?’
I nodded and took two dishes from the plate shelf, found utensils and two mugs for milk. Auntie disappeared again into the cellar and emerged with butter and a jar of jam. She pulled a pot of sugar from the cabinet as well and soon we sat down to eat. I watched how Auntie asked for a blessing over her meal. With eyes wide open I looked at her face, the round red cheeks, the slightly moving lips. She looked beautiful and kind, I thought.
6
A untie has not yet condemned me and seems to be a kind woman. Sometimes I wonder if some of her traits may be found in my mother, very deeply hidden away. Sometimes it is obvious to me that they are sisters who are very much alike, yet other times they seem to me so totally different that you would think there was no family connection between them at all. I have told Auntie as much as I could about her sister. She seems happy to finally know more about what has been happening over the past ten years, there has been such distance for so long. I can’t help but wonder if things are the same for me. Do I no longer exist to my mother, or to him who calls me his daughter? Have I been forever erased from their memories, and do they tell their friends that I have died, have disappeared? The idea of it frightens me, because, if they proclaim me dead, then what am I, who am I?
During the following days I noticed that I looked forward to good meals and I felt more and more energized. It was peculiar, but it seemed as if only here at the farm, my stomach started to grow, as if only now there was room for it, room for my shame. I also felt less exhausted, and when Auntie asked me if I would like to help her harvesting the apples and pears, I nodded. My mind went back to my younger days. I could almost smell the pan of stewed pears.
The next day we started picking fruit. When we had finished looking after the animals, Auntie took the wheelbarrow. She handed me the picking tool and asked if I was ready to
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