Sunday, 11 May 2014

A silver thread

It is night. Around me darkness and silence. From somewhere, from afar, a silent calling that only my soul can recognise. I close my eyes, slowly, and tenderly I try to follow the calling, a silver thread expending over thousands of miles. 

With the thread between my fingers, oceans and continents vanish and finally I can step over my land, the one I left behind following an illusion. I know its song, I know its stories, I know the perfume in the air and my soul trembles in joy. I hear around my language, the one I listened to in the womb, and I smile. There, in the distance are my mountains with white caps of snow in early summer, with fir trees raising like proud arrows towards a sky that is as blue as my dreams, with fast cold springs running over rocks between the flowers. I pass through tiny villages lost on the map and resort towns and finally, as I descend the last mountain, across the fields, I can see the old castle sitting quietly at the top of the hill, a testimony of the history I had left behind. The stones beneath my feet know my story. I take one step after another, between old houses in which ones I had friends, on old streets on which once I sang and laughed. In the tiny little park with weeping willows the old benches remember still a young girl laughing as she was day dreaming about the future. 

I walk further still, passed the centuries old German church, passed a school that once was mine and stands older then the country for which I had left it all behind and finally, finally I take my first step on my street. Each house has lived in my memory, each stone etched in my mind, each tree a guardian to my dreams. And there, just a little lower, the house that when I left was white as snow, a sunny yellow now. I stop by the gate and I lean my head on it. Between tears, I smile at all the memories. The day I had left the house excited on a date with my love, the day I came home with all my friends celebrating the end of high school, the days I went to the market with my mother and for long walked in the forest with my brother… Teasing my sister and listening to my brother…

I lower myself to my knees, there, next to the gate, and I can not stop the tears falling down my face. Why did I leave it all behind? Why?

Once, a long time ago, when I used to fight with my sister about silly belongings, I thought that having my own home, my own space will be a blessing. Once upon a time, listening to my father’s lectures, I dreamed of the day when I will have no one to tell my what to do. Once, when my mother would ask me to sit with her, I thought that being alone will be exciting. Once, when my bother was mercilessly teasing me, I thought that I would give anything for it to stop…

I sit now on the other side of the gate, a stranger in my own home, a stranger in my own country and I cry. Because I would give anything to have my father tell me what to do and lift the mountains of responsibility of my shoulders. Because I would give anything to sit quietly with my mother as we cook together yet another meal. Because I would rather argue with my siblings then being alone at the end of the Earth where no one knows me enough to tease me about things that happened a life time ago. I step into the yard; tears still falling, tears of joy for finally being home, in my parents arms, in my siblings laughter.

The silver thread snaps, just another sweet dream, and I am back again in my own home, in the dark, at the end of the planet. Why did I leave? Why did I leave it all behind with a smile on my lips? Why? All I have left are dreams and memories. And sometimes, late at night, I can close my eyes and imagine going home, and for a moment, just a second, the illusion is powerful enough to settle the yearning, the longing. And then, the dream vanishes like the touch of the feather on the face, and I am left all alone in a country far away and the pain is ten fold worse and the longing is clawing at my soul... Why?

Monday, 5 May 2014


I live in a world surrounded by technology. Even now, as I am sitting in front of my computer, I have a smart phone and an iPad on my desk. My eleven year old daughter has an iPad, an iPod and a smart phone. I look at it and sometimes I wonder...

I close my eyes and I remember a world without technology, a world of old fashion phones that could be slammed with satisfaction, a world in which my friends would simply knock on the door, knowing they will be welcome anytime. And part of me smiles sadly looking at my children that do not know the satisfaction of just knocking on someone's door and the joy of finding them home.

What does technology means for me? The luxury of seeing my parents' faces when I speak to them from continents away. It is a luxury I did not always have in the days of insanely expensive overseas phone calls and long waited for letters. And yet, sometimes I miss the excitement of opening my post box to find a letter hidden between bills and more bills. I miss the excitement of ripping open that envelope that has travelled thousands of miles just to carry the thoughts of someone I love, of turning the pages of that letter and following the lines written by a hand I know so well.

I close my eyes and I remember being one of the first of my generation to leave my homeland to seek my future in other parts of the world and in an age without the technology we have today, it was easy to feel lost and broken away from everything I held dear. Years passed and one day, with couple of clicks on my computer I was able to check on people I had lost to the roads of life. Sometimes we chat, we people that used to be friends a lifetime ago. And yet, sometimes I wonder how would it be to just hear their voices.

Today, with couple of clicks on my phone, I am able to see my parents' house, too see them walking in the yard, and the possibility of it is bitter sweet, because while I can see it and while for a second it settles down the longing, I am not really there. Today, due to technology my parents can see their granddaughters and be seen by them, even though my girls still miss them and my parents cry for all those things they miss.

For me, technology is that one thing that makes living at the end of the Earth bearable, barely. Many times, late at night when sleep eludes me, I think of all those people that came to this land, or to others, generations ago, before computers and fast internet connections, and I shiver at the idea that on a lucky day they had to wait half a year to receive a reply to a letter sent. I am blessed to live in the world we live in today, because without it I would be truly lost from all I love.