Echo of the Past

27. Winter, Marcin, Nivan

Translator: Schiotka

Editor: Pasadera, JacquelineMonaie

"Dear Moon, you swiftly climbed up to the blue heights

and with uncertain snow you covered the skies.

And your rays, uncertain, pale and silver,

Reflected in the clear crystals of the ice."

Juliusz Słowacki, 'The Moon' (1825)

Winter
_________

He was like an angel.

It seemed as though he wouldn't have any trouble finding a new home... a new family. Because with those big, ocean-like eyes, all women fell in love.

But the angel had an unclean soul.

The sooner some kind woman took him in, the sooner he came back. And, although the next ones knew about all the problems he'd caused, his appearance put them under a spell. Without effort and without exception.

I was jealous of the attention he received. Balling my fists, I watched how time and again he was led away by another woman's hand, only to be brought back. While I waited month after month for a new family, among all the other children who wanted the warmth of a feminine hand just as badly.

A mother.

It seemed that he was the only one who didn't need anybody.

He was usually quiet and calm. He had no friends, and he never talked to anyone.

He wasn't liked. But still, everyone was surprised each time he returned. Back and forth. All the time.

He didn't cry when they walked away.

He wasn't excited when new ones came to take him.

He always had the same humble expression. And those big, sad eyes...

In contrast, I waited for my new family for a very long time. I wasn't a cute kid; I didn't have eyes like the ocean. But finally, a foster home was found for me.

It wasn't a nice-looking place, nor was it big.

But I was happy that I would finally, hopefully, be able to experience a taste of normality.

I didn't get a new, better mom and dad. But I got an auntie and an uncle. And three foster-brothers.

I learned discipline and punishment.

But I felt better there than anywhere else.

____________________

I'm sure the size of my eyes equaled his when, one day, I saw him standing at the door of my new home.

He wasn't a baby anymore. He'd become a boy, like me.

He was even more beautiful than I remembered. He was so bright...

Because we "knew each other" from the orphanage, our auntie decided that we would share a room. I tried to become friends, make some contact with him, but to no avail. He never answered a single question I asked. He never spoke at all. Not one word.

Apart from the fact he never spoke to anyone, he never caused trouble. He ate what he was given,

he always made his bed; he cleaned the house and kept the fire going in the stove. Sometimes