Silence

The silence was massive. We never spoke. I drowned myself in another world, I didn’t play with the kids. They formed their own little commune, where noone could enter. I just sat and stared at our only room’s rotting walls, the small window’s paint chips, the cracks in the wood of the ceiling, and then I just strolled around in the back garden, among the hills and valleys and I sat down in the grass.

I was so calm, I felt so free, I dreamt of eating as much as I could every day, I imagined multi-layer salami sandwiches, pretty clothes, a lot of books, a bike, 100-piece marker set, a huge boksz of pencils, a whole shelf with papers on it, notebooks and pens, colorful envelopes … I was satisfied. I knew this was going to be mine, we would have our own house, we’ll have food to eat, we won’t live in a dark hole with an old lady who never let me play int he back yard and who scolded me for shouting, she never gave us any pears, but we stole one anyway when she went into the village. When she got back, shoe counted them, and then … But when she left again, we went to the attic to collect all the glass we could find, so we could sell it and buy something really pretty for Mummy.

Int he kitchen there were two big buckets on the long bench. We brought fresh water in them with my sister, the well wasn’t that far, out on the street, almost right in front of the house. But the real party was when we went to get milk, up to the village. We had to go in the evening and we took the top off the jug and turned it around and around fast and we were amazed by the fact that not even a drop of milk left the container.

It was even before this, we lived in another lady’s house, our dad was nowhere to be seen. Mum worked the night shift and the morning shift at times, u pin the capital, on these occasions I had to wake my sister, we washed our faces, I made the beds, I locked the door, took her to daycare, and I went to school. I was in the first grade, I was six years old. When mum worked the afternoon shift, I went to pick my sister up from daycare after school, we played at home, we had dinner, I washed the dishes, we tidied up and then went to bed. Mum got home around 11 pm, we were asleep by that time. Everything was so calm. So quiet.

I loved going to school, teachers praised me, they patted my head, I was so grateful to them, that I felt I owed it to them to study. They showed me a bunch of wonderful things and they payed attention to me. I was happy, yes, of this I am sure. I gave little kisses to my books every morning, I knew, that one day I would be a teacher, too. I taught my sister every day after daycare. I knew I would be one of those smiling teachers, like my teacher, with an open look in my eyes. I never doubted the fact that I would one day become a teacher.

It happened even before these times, when mum left dad and we moved to this other village, where we lived with yet another old lady, there was no floor, it was sand and dirt, you know, it was one of those houses where we had to water the floor every morning, so it wouldn’t be dusty int he rooms. I was 5 years old then. Dad came after us, he begged mum. And then on an early summer evening we were just standing in the doorway, we were waiting for dad, he had to pay us that day. We were hungry. Dad didn’t come. Mum didn’t say anything. She didn’t raise her voice, not once. She cried quietly, we just stood there hugging her, it was getting chilly. We turned, slowly, I let go of the gate, and then the old lady came up to us and gave us both a loaf of bread. One for me, one for my sister. And this is why I loved mum. Although later she couldn’t even look a tus, she couldn’t smile at us, she couldn’t protect us and give us hugs, I loved her for that moment. Because that day she stayed hungry. And there were a lot of days when she stayed hungry. And back then, she would hug us, even if she was hungry … I was happy.