(This story has been translated into Czech by Sylva Ficová and can be read here.)
At the town’s lower market, my eldest son walks to the building where he will shortly practice the martial art karate. It does not make sense to drive home to the countryside, if I have to fetch him again in an hour’s time. My younger son winces and moans that he wants to go home. I ignore the whining and spontaneously decide to enter a student-managed restaurant. My younger son keeps his jacket on, because he complains of being cold. But he orders ice-cream. So does my daughter. Vanilla ice-cream. A tiny perfectly shaped portion with mint leaves on top. They each order something to drink. I order a glass of rosé. I have no cash so I ask the waitress if I may pay with the card. No. I leave my children to enjoy their delectable ice-cream. Younger son is quite happy now not to be at home. Due to technical problems the nearest cash machine refuses to give me cash. On my way out I meet my eldest son. He says there is no karate. How strange. He might have spent an hour outside at -10 ° C had we not met at this moment. I find out later that there was karate training, but that my son had not waited long enough. I point out the restaurant to him and tell him to join the other two, while I go and find another cash machine. I eventually come back with cash. Now I can relax. There is no hurry to go anywhere and I have all my children with me. The glass of rosé to me is like the acorn to Scrat. It is like drinking a flower rose. Its colour would soon tinge my cheeks and flush my veins. Much later of course, Darjeeling first flush would see us getting home safely. My eldest orders nachos with mountain cheese dip (he found the “mountain” part particularly intriguing). I order potato wedges and am glad that there is something on the menu I am able to eat. We are all at peace, chilled in the moment, relaxed, happy. My daughter, who is four years old, puts some sugar onto the table. She loves things sweet. She takes the straw from her glass and uses it to suck up the sugar crystals from the table surface, making patterns and then slowly sucking up all the patterns. I look at this and wonder if she has any idea how this looks like to the rest of the world. How different it is, and how the same it actually is. Don’t we all want something sweet.
Copyright © Quirina Roode-Gutzmer 2012. Al rights reserved.