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05/22/2021
Tofuwachtel
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Tofuwachtel
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The walk was arduous. And when she finally arrived at the small lake, the old bench was no longer there. Of the three trees, only two were still standing.
She sat down on the stump of the third tree and took a deep breath. The fresh air did her good.
Her gaze went into the distance as she carefully nested out a small bottle from her coat pocket and took it gently, but firmly in her hand.
She had sat here before. Decades ago.
Stationed here he had been. Jack. She had never forgotten him, still owned the little flask he gave her back then.
Her parents were against the relationship, strictly and rigorously forbidding her to see him again after they caught wind of their love.
After months, when she plucked up the courage to ask for him at the base, she learned that he was back in America. She only found the letters he had written her for years after when she was clearing out her parents' house. In a box in the basement. She had opened them. In each one he wrote how much he loved her and in each one was a pressed lily of the valley .......
She had gotten married. Friedhelm had died eight years ago, and their daughter lived far away.
Her thoughts drifted back. She was sitting on the bench with Jack. Young and so in love. The sky cloudless and blue. Spring was in the fresh air.
The sun was already warming a little, and Jack picked her a large bunch of lilies of the valley, which stood here near the little undergrowth and which she loved so much. Wrapped the green stems with his white handkerchief.
Their bright green leaves were still partially wet with a small drop of morning dew. The moss around them still small, delicate and soft.
She heard her own bright laughter, looked into his light blue eyes, breathed his very fine slightly sweet spicy scent. Sniffed the small white blossoms in her hand. Felt his soft lips.
Lightly and delicately his hand touched her cheek. She saw two swallows flying. He kissed her forehead. She smiled and slowly her hand opened........
She sat down on the stump of the third tree and took a deep breath. The fresh air did her good.
Her gaze went into the distance as she carefully nested out a small bottle from her coat pocket and took it gently, but firmly in her hand.
She had sat here before. Decades ago.
Stationed here he had been. Jack. She had never forgotten him, still owned the little flask he gave her back then.
Her parents were against the relationship, strictly and rigorously forbidding her to see him again after they caught wind of their love.
After months, when she plucked up the courage to ask for him at the base, she learned that he was back in America. She only found the letters he had written her for years after when she was clearing out her parents' house. In a box in the basement. She had opened them. In each one he wrote how much he loved her and in each one was a pressed lily of the valley .......
She had gotten married. Friedhelm had died eight years ago, and their daughter lived far away.
Her thoughts drifted back. She was sitting on the bench with Jack. Young and so in love. The sky cloudless and blue. Spring was in the fresh air.
The sun was already warming a little, and Jack picked her a large bunch of lilies of the valley, which stood here near the little undergrowth and which she loved so much. Wrapped the green stems with his white handkerchief.
Their bright green leaves were still partially wet with a small drop of morning dew. The moss around them still small, delicate and soft.
She heard her own bright laughter, looked into his light blue eyes, breathed his very fine slightly sweet spicy scent. Sniffed the small white blossoms in her hand. Felt his soft lips.
Lightly and delicately his hand touched her cheek. She saw two swallows flying. He kissed her forehead. She smiled and slowly her hand opened........
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