Mal wieder eine Kurzgeschichte von der lieben (!) Luca 
.
Gleichwohl es auf englisch ist würde ich mich über Kommentare und Kritik sehr freuen. Ich hoffe es ist dennoch verständlich und wer Fehler findet darf sie mir entweder sagen oder sie sogar behalten
. Großzügig, oder?
Das Thema ist schon ein wenig persönlich und spukt mir schon ein wenig länger im Kopf rum, aber heute war mir nach schreiben zu mute und da ich vorher einen englischen Film gesehen und darauf eine eMail nach Neuseeland geschrieben hatte, wurde es halt etwas auf Englisch. Ich muss sagen, es hat mir Spaß gemacht und ich bin mit dem Ergebnis ganz zufrieden.
Kleine Randinformation: Ich musste zweimal ins Wörterbuch schauen ^^. Welche Wörter das waren - da dürft ihr knobeln
.
Closed Doors
For once it was not her bad health or other people she was complaining about. The first time in her life, I guess, it was simply the weather she got on about and obviously could not help but go on and on. Though I was used to it, I felt that I could not bear to hear anymore of it for this second. But what do you possibly say to the one and only person that cared about you her entire life? The one person that loved you all those odd years and that probably will love you forever? For sure you would not say anything like 'Oh please, shut up just this one time!'.
Maybe it was just my sense of good manners or it may have not been - I cannot quite tell. However, I just let her continue without listening any further. It has been like that since the age of 15 - I can quite remember that time - and it will be like that the rest of my life. Of that I'm sure. I've heard about other people who were able to tell their parents that they should stop moaning about their lives and should not tell their children what they have and what they do not have to do. Not anymore, anyway.
I was just not capable of that. I know I could not whine about the way she treated me for years if I never did anything against it but how on earth does someone do something like that? I mean every human being alive should be able to just go and explain to their parents that they are living their own lives now, away from the guardianship of anyone. And that the decisions they make - however they may be - are not the issues of their former guardians anymore. And for a fact (and how I already mentioned anyway), I know a lot of people do that. Some anyway.
"It's raining for days and days, isn't it?" she said while she poured herself another cup of tea. A good old English one, of course.
"Yes, mum, indeed." What else was I supposed to say? And I could not deny that I was annoyed with the rain, too. It actually was getting on my nerves quite a bit. But the moment my mother told me I felt it was not that bad at all anymore. Well, is that not kind of strange?
"You aren't very talkative today, are you?" Here old way of speaking made me feel sick the moment it came to my ear although even the most distrustful person could not hear anything malicious out of it. It was my own prejudice that made me hear those things. And I was powerless - again.
"No, I'm very sorry. I just don't feel quite right today. It might even be the weather. Maybe I've got a cold or something like that. You can never tell, can ya? Don't worry, though. I'm sure as hell that I'll be better soonish." Sure as hell? A few years ago she would have grizzled about that sentence.
Now we were too far away from each other to argue anymore. Not about the big topics and for sure not about the small ones. Life had teared us apart and I felt like a sailor on a ship who could just figure out a tiny, tiny person on the land far, far away. Years away - it might even have been light-years.
And now that I was thinking about those kind of things in her living room, with her but nevertheless miles away, I felt lonely and disappointed and angry at the same time. And a huge sadness fell upon me and I deeply felt regrets about my life and her life and how it became this. This relationship that was no longer a close one. That, in fact, was not even a good one anymore. The sorrow bit its way to my soul and I knew that I was not even trying to stop it.
The rain kept falling on the window and I followed with my eyes the little lines one single drop left until, seconds later, it vanished into oblivion. The apartment was filled with the heavy smell of lavender and - like always - a touch of fresh coriander
"You all right, though?" Somehow her attitude seemed to have changed. She posed the question with a trembled voice and I thought I heard the slightest hint of fear out of it.
"Course I am, mum! How could I not be? I told you you don't have to worry. I won't get seriously ill or anything like that an-"
"You know I'm not talking about that sort of stuff." I was alarmed at once and as sure as my body tighten up, I was ready for this conversation.
"Well... what are you talking then about?"
"You know... your life, your goals. What you'll do with your life. That sort of issues. It's important, isn't it?"
"Oh, it sure is for you, mother." I could not help but put a little bit of sarcasm in my voice.
"What's the matter with you? I just asked a simple question, didn't I?" It was the first time on that day that she actually looked me in the eyes. Her cold, blue eyes met my ones and I had to force myself to keep holding eye contact.
"Oh... c'mon! It's not a simple question. You're going to mourn about the my job, my flat and how small it is, about my relationship to guys and how I never get anything done." And when I finished those prognoses in an outraged kind of way I found myself suddenly standing.
Her small eyes were fixed upon me and the wrinkles around them appeared to have deepened. "Well... somehow you are always the one who predicts that things. So I have to ask you: Do you get anything done in your life?"
My hands became fists and I wanted to scream out loud and to abuse her in the worst possible way but I did not. I never did.
"Why THE HELL should that affect you? It's not even regarding you." And I fought with myself that I would not break out into tears.
"I'm your mother, Kathryn. How do you dare to say it's not affecting me?" And she said that in a strong kind of way no-one would have believed this person in this weak body was capable of.
"It's my life! When will you understand that? I would tell you. I really would. But whatever I do it will never be good enough for you! You'll always find something you can complain about. The way I live, the way I work, the way I meet other people..."
"You're talking nonsense there!" She got defiant then and her head lifted up a little bit just like she tried to put a bit more meaning in her words. And that was just enough for me.
"No! I'm not! And one way or another you'll get back to that point where you'll abuse me to-"
"I abuse you? Oh, very nice of you, my dear. Very nice." She was laughing now but it was that kind of ironic laugh I hated so much about her.
"Oh yes, you do! Damn it - you do! You-"
Again she cut my off in a sentence. "Oh yes, well. I guess I abused you in loving you and in raising you and in putting all the money in you. Oh how right you are! You poor little thing." There she was back - that narrow-minded mother she always has been.
"You doing it right now!" I whispered. The tears were streaming down my cheeks and I had to concentrate to continue to breath. There I was - 28 years old and still crying like a baby.
But my sudden change of volume seemed to irritate her and she seemed to need more time to comprehend what I just said. But I went on.
"You abuse me of being the one who ruined your life. I and not yourself!"
Her eyes narrowed. Her gaze were stinging me while she talked without really moving her lips.
"How dare you to talk to me like that? I ruined my life? I gave up my studies for you and I just want some respect from you but you're not even able to give me that much."
"You don't want respect!" I was shouting again. "You want success! I can't stand that anymore. You are selfish and I showed you all the respect I had and it was never enough for you, was it?"
And the moment she put on that grimace with this ironic laugh again, a part of me died. And I guess that part was the connection to my mother. I reckon that's how they do it, those people who tell their parents that they got to back out of their lives. Put the moment I had run out of her house, the moment I could not smell the lavender and coriander anymore, the moment the rain was touching my skin it did not feel as great as I had imagined.
And somehow when the door behind me crashed into its frame it had closed forever.
Copyright by Charlotte H.
.Gleichwohl es auf englisch ist würde ich mich über Kommentare und Kritik sehr freuen. Ich hoffe es ist dennoch verständlich und wer Fehler findet darf sie mir entweder sagen oder sie sogar behalten
. Großzügig, oder? Das Thema ist schon ein wenig persönlich und spukt mir schon ein wenig länger im Kopf rum, aber heute war mir nach schreiben zu mute und da ich vorher einen englischen Film gesehen und darauf eine eMail nach Neuseeland geschrieben hatte, wurde es halt etwas auf Englisch. Ich muss sagen, es hat mir Spaß gemacht und ich bin mit dem Ergebnis ganz zufrieden.
Kleine Randinformation: Ich musste zweimal ins Wörterbuch schauen ^^. Welche Wörter das waren - da dürft ihr knobeln
.Closed Doors
For once it was not her bad health or other people she was complaining about. The first time in her life, I guess, it was simply the weather she got on about and obviously could not help but go on and on. Though I was used to it, I felt that I could not bear to hear anymore of it for this second. But what do you possibly say to the one and only person that cared about you her entire life? The one person that loved you all those odd years and that probably will love you forever? For sure you would not say anything like 'Oh please, shut up just this one time!'.
Maybe it was just my sense of good manners or it may have not been - I cannot quite tell. However, I just let her continue without listening any further. It has been like that since the age of 15 - I can quite remember that time - and it will be like that the rest of my life. Of that I'm sure. I've heard about other people who were able to tell their parents that they should stop moaning about their lives and should not tell their children what they have and what they do not have to do. Not anymore, anyway.
I was just not capable of that. I know I could not whine about the way she treated me for years if I never did anything against it but how on earth does someone do something like that? I mean every human being alive should be able to just go and explain to their parents that they are living their own lives now, away from the guardianship of anyone. And that the decisions they make - however they may be - are not the issues of their former guardians anymore. And for a fact (and how I already mentioned anyway), I know a lot of people do that. Some anyway.
"It's raining for days and days, isn't it?" she said while she poured herself another cup of tea. A good old English one, of course.
"Yes, mum, indeed." What else was I supposed to say? And I could not deny that I was annoyed with the rain, too. It actually was getting on my nerves quite a bit. But the moment my mother told me I felt it was not that bad at all anymore. Well, is that not kind of strange?
"You aren't very talkative today, are you?" Here old way of speaking made me feel sick the moment it came to my ear although even the most distrustful person could not hear anything malicious out of it. It was my own prejudice that made me hear those things. And I was powerless - again.
"No, I'm very sorry. I just don't feel quite right today. It might even be the weather. Maybe I've got a cold or something like that. You can never tell, can ya? Don't worry, though. I'm sure as hell that I'll be better soonish." Sure as hell? A few years ago she would have grizzled about that sentence.
Now we were too far away from each other to argue anymore. Not about the big topics and for sure not about the small ones. Life had teared us apart and I felt like a sailor on a ship who could just figure out a tiny, tiny person on the land far, far away. Years away - it might even have been light-years.
And now that I was thinking about those kind of things in her living room, with her but nevertheless miles away, I felt lonely and disappointed and angry at the same time. And a huge sadness fell upon me and I deeply felt regrets about my life and her life and how it became this. This relationship that was no longer a close one. That, in fact, was not even a good one anymore. The sorrow bit its way to my soul and I knew that I was not even trying to stop it.
The rain kept falling on the window and I followed with my eyes the little lines one single drop left until, seconds later, it vanished into oblivion. The apartment was filled with the heavy smell of lavender and - like always - a touch of fresh coriander
"You all right, though?" Somehow her attitude seemed to have changed. She posed the question with a trembled voice and I thought I heard the slightest hint of fear out of it.
"Course I am, mum! How could I not be? I told you you don't have to worry. I won't get seriously ill or anything like that an-"
"You know I'm not talking about that sort of stuff." I was alarmed at once and as sure as my body tighten up, I was ready for this conversation.
"Well... what are you talking then about?"
"You know... your life, your goals. What you'll do with your life. That sort of issues. It's important, isn't it?"
"Oh, it sure is for you, mother." I could not help but put a little bit of sarcasm in my voice.
"What's the matter with you? I just asked a simple question, didn't I?" It was the first time on that day that she actually looked me in the eyes. Her cold, blue eyes met my ones and I had to force myself to keep holding eye contact.
"Oh... c'mon! It's not a simple question. You're going to mourn about the my job, my flat and how small it is, about my relationship to guys and how I never get anything done." And when I finished those prognoses in an outraged kind of way I found myself suddenly standing.
Her small eyes were fixed upon me and the wrinkles around them appeared to have deepened. "Well... somehow you are always the one who predicts that things. So I have to ask you: Do you get anything done in your life?"
My hands became fists and I wanted to scream out loud and to abuse her in the worst possible way but I did not. I never did.
"Why THE HELL should that affect you? It's not even regarding you." And I fought with myself that I would not break out into tears.
"I'm your mother, Kathryn. How do you dare to say it's not affecting me?" And she said that in a strong kind of way no-one would have believed this person in this weak body was capable of.
"It's my life! When will you understand that? I would tell you. I really would. But whatever I do it will never be good enough for you! You'll always find something you can complain about. The way I live, the way I work, the way I meet other people..."
"You're talking nonsense there!" She got defiant then and her head lifted up a little bit just like she tried to put a bit more meaning in her words. And that was just enough for me.
"No! I'm not! And one way or another you'll get back to that point where you'll abuse me to-"
"I abuse you? Oh, very nice of you, my dear. Very nice." She was laughing now but it was that kind of ironic laugh I hated so much about her.
"Oh yes, you do! Damn it - you do! You-"
Again she cut my off in a sentence. "Oh yes, well. I guess I abused you in loving you and in raising you and in putting all the money in you. Oh how right you are! You poor little thing." There she was back - that narrow-minded mother she always has been.
"You doing it right now!" I whispered. The tears were streaming down my cheeks and I had to concentrate to continue to breath. There I was - 28 years old and still crying like a baby.
But my sudden change of volume seemed to irritate her and she seemed to need more time to comprehend what I just said. But I went on.
"You abuse me of being the one who ruined your life. I and not yourself!"
Her eyes narrowed. Her gaze were stinging me while she talked without really moving her lips.
"How dare you to talk to me like that? I ruined my life? I gave up my studies for you and I just want some respect from you but you're not even able to give me that much."
"You don't want respect!" I was shouting again. "You want success! I can't stand that anymore. You are selfish and I showed you all the respect I had and it was never enough for you, was it?"
And the moment she put on that grimace with this ironic laugh again, a part of me died. And I guess that part was the connection to my mother. I reckon that's how they do it, those people who tell their parents that they got to back out of their lives. Put the moment I had run out of her house, the moment I could not smell the lavender and coriander anymore, the moment the rain was touching my skin it did not feel as great as I had imagined.
And somehow when the door behind me crashed into its frame it had closed forever.
Copyright by Charlotte H.
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