Life

Je knippert met je ogen en het is voorbij. Je had het moeten doen, gisteren, of daarnet. Of misschien nog net nu. Nee, nu is al te laat, het gaat vooruit en het is onverbiddelijk, de stappen zijn misschien schoorvoetend of blijven soms even staan, maar ze gaan maar één kant uit, verder het pad af, totdat het is uitgewandeld. Elke seconde dat dit door je hoofd flitst, ben je kwijt, je hebt dan even niet geleefd, maar de vergankelijkheid benadrukt. Soms helpt het om op één been te staan en het andere achteruit te strekken, met je beide armen recht vooruit en te balanceren op slechts een deel van wat je bent. Elke dag doe je het met minder om zo op het einde meer over te houden. Misschien wil je langer leven, misschien heb je nog iets te doen. Je denkt: ‘Op een dag zal het komen, op een dag schuif je al de rest opzij. Dan is er een recht pad en één zuiver uur’. Je kijkt rond, denkt, weegt af. Proberen doe je niet. Je verwacht dat het komt. Het zal op je deur kloppen of aan je jas trekken in file. Misschien struikel je er over in de gang. Het zal stil samen met andere brieven arriveren. In je ooghoek als je wakker wordt. In een spleet tussen je tanden. Uitzonderlijk tussen de lippen van je geliefde. Een enkele keer gebeurt het dat je ziet, maar niet toeslaat. Je hebt een seconde geaarzeld, en daarna is het onverbiddelijk te laat.

Thank you

We like to pay people with love. Real Love. That's why in the basket there was a sourdough bread, eggplant spread, oat cookies, a sweet pie, a salty pie and a bottle of wine just to be on the safe side. With the heavy big basket in our arms, we rang the door bell, looking like two overprepared sweet old aunties ready to visit the young niece. The young man opening the door looked at us as if we were strangers, not quite sure what we were bringing him, even doubting to let us enter his house.

'Didn't you know we were coming? We only drop by to give you this'. We pointed our chins to the eye-catching object in front of us.
'Yes yes of course, come in please. We were expecting you'.

Together we sat down on the kitchen table. They poured us a cup of coffee and we ate a piece of the sweet pie. There was silence, we were listening, they had room to talk. The house was quiet and empty. There was still something left that could be filled.

After a brief hour we went home, leaving some of our time, ingredients and attention behind.

They had understood our gratitutde.

Unexpected

We had been cycling a full day through the woods and fields of Central Scotland now. The weather was rough and cold and we were dragging a tent and sleeping bags with us.

I was the Supervisor of the Food, a Designor of Dishes. My compagnon was the Builder of Tents. During the trip I made sure we regularly visited local corner shops, providing our pockets with power snacks and icey lemonades. My fellow cycler was an artist in shelter construction, showing his skills during dusk, while I was blowing the fire.

This task assignment was nothing we had decided upon, it had just happened by the tendency of our personalities, by the move our hands. That day though I felt some slight resentment against my newly aqcuired responsibilities, so I neglected checking our goods in stock. I hoped that ignoring would magically solve.

After 63 km of cycling we ended up near the Atlantic ocean, finding nothing but a rocky campsite with an even rockier ground. Sitting on a rock, we shared the wideness of the view. The tent was standing, and in the night darkness, with a dark breeze playing with our braids, we shared one small hard-boiled egg.

How the absence of something can prove to be so much more.

Innocence

They had opened the refrigerator 72 times that evening. 14 times they had put something into the refrigerator, 21 times they had actually smuggled something out of it and 37 times they had studied the contents of the icey shelves. They opened the big white doors when they took a break or when they passed by on their way to the bathroom. It seemed there was a hole in their stomach and they tried to fill it, partly by looking at exhibited foods and often by breaking little pieces of leftover bread slices and coconut cakes. Pudding desserts were slightly more difficult, fingers were insufficient - you had to take a spoon and manoeuvre between the piled up veggies and soup bowls. At one occasion one of them accidentally dropped the pink icing of a birthday cupcake in the celery soup of the day before.

It was around 9.30pm they became aware of their behaviour. The kitchen was silent, and one of them was standing in front of the cold racks, again. Her hand was resting on the steady white door. From the food treasures her eyes moved to her sister, then back into the big white box. With a firm gesture she slammed the door- closed. They were each other witnesses, and both knew what the other one was thinking. No more late night shows after dinner.