Chapter 26
by Salted FishThe church bells chimed melodiously. A few birds fluttered and soared into the clear blue sky.
Light footsteps approached from ahead, and someone drew near.
“Is he alright?” asked a kind elderly woman with snow-white hair.
Felix shook his head, gently shifting to let Erik’s head rest more comfortably on his lap. Erik had stopped sobbing, but Felix thought he probably couldn’t face anyone else in his current state. He kept one arm around Erik’s shoulders and used the other to tenderly stroke his hair.
“And you, child, are you alright?”
Felix smiled faintly.
“I couldn’t be better,” he said.
The elderly woman set down the basket she was carrying on the gravel path and carefully pulled out a small pot of blooming autumn anemones. The clay pot was still damp with fresh soil. She hesitated as she looked at Felix.
“Just leave it here,” Felix said. “We’ll plant it by the grave later.”
The woman studied him for a moment, and then a faint light flickered in her blue-gray eyes.
Felix smiled at her. He knew she had recognized him.—Mrs. Komeier lived in the blue house across the street from the climbing gym. Back when he lived there, she would often bring him homemade apple pies, cakes, and cookies; during Easter and Christmas, there would be cream-filled cookies shaped like bunnies, with his name written on them. Warm and sweet memories from a distant past.
With this thought, other memories flooded in: the Komeier’s backyard connected to a vast stretch of woods, and there was a shortcut to the hiking trails in the forest. They would often pass through there to wander the surrounding woods—Fritz, his mother, and him. At first, the young Felix had been reluctant, prodded and urged by the adults, only moving forward with his mother’s constant encouragement. Gradually, he became more enthusiastic, his steps light, eager each time to rush into that wonderful world held up by countless branches and leaves, surrounded by the chirping of birds and the ever-changing scents of the forest. Their backpacks sometimes held water, apples, and granola bars; other times, bread with cheese or salami, and occasionally sausages and risen dough. There were designated spots in the forest with stone fire pits where they could gather branches and light a fire. He always carried a pocket knife—Fritz had taught him never to go hiking without one; he also taught him its various uses: marking trees, cutting large leaves to shoo away horseflies, shaving dry wood into kindling to start a fire, or sharpening the end of a stick to skewer sausages or wrap dough, roasting delicious sausages and bread rolls over the fire.…In late summer and early autumn, after the rain, Mrs. Komeier would join them to search for porcini mushrooms in the forest. She would guide them to the less-traveled corners, and many times, he found mushrooms larger than his own palm.
…Strangely, during the long years he had been away from his hometown, he had never thought of these things, Felix mused. Perhaps he had subconsciously chosen to forget, not allowing himself to look back. But now, they suddenly flooded his mind, vivid and clear, flowing through his thoughts like the joyful memories of a beautiful past, carrying a nostalgic warmth.—Just as real and warm as the breath and body heat of the person resting on his lap, making his heart soften the moment he touched them, soft enough to reconcile with the whole world.
“Thank you, Mrs. Komeier,” he said softly.
“—It’s been so long since we last saw each other.”
She smiled.
“It really has been a long time,” she said, placing the flowerpot on the stone slab beside him.
“Welcome home, child.”
(End of the story)
Author’s Note:
**In Germany, Easter and Christmas are important times for housewives to bake cookies or gingerbread. The molds come in various shapes—animals (most commonly sheep and bunnies, but also bears and deer), people (gingerbread men, Santa Claus), or objects (flowers, stars, etc.). Writing Felix’s name on the bunny cookies was Mrs. Komeier’s joke: Felix the Bunny is the protagonist of the famous German children’s book Felix der Hase, an adventurous traveler who has journeyed across the world.
A few final words:
The title Tag der Einheit (Unity Day) is inspired by the German Unity Day (Tag der deutschen Einheit). This holiday commemorates the reunification of East and West Germany after the Cold War (see the annotation in Chapter 2, Section 8). After reunification, the current version of the German national anthem was established, with its first line being “Unity, justice, and freedom for the German Fatherland” (Einigkeit und Recht und Freiheit fur das deutsche Vaterland). Besides the story taking place during the Unity Day holiday, there is also a textual connection to the novel’s themes: in German, Einheit (unity) originally means “oneness” or “wholeness,” while Vaterland (Fatherland) literally means “father’s land.” It is a translation of the Latin word patria, which originally meant “father’s estate.”—In the novel, two people who see the same man as their father meet because of handling their father’s estate (the climbing gym). They have always been seeking each other, feeling that only together can they become whole.
The most important internal reason for choosing Tag der Einheit as the title is this: as mentioned in previous annotations, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the starting point of German reunification, was incredibly sudden and dramatic, something almost no one could have predicted at the time. When I thought about writing a love story that takes place over just three or four days, I wondered if it might be seen as “unrealistic”—but then I remembered that in reality, the Berlin Wall, which divided two nations, fell in just a day or two, and many people thought they would never see such a thing happen in their lifetime.
While writing this story, I briefly considered a less happy ending—after all, tragedy often resonates more deeply than comedy. I don’t think a separation would have been more “realistic” (and, perhaps a bit provocatively, I think that the so-called “realism” often just serves as an excuse for some people’s narrow-mindedness and petty attitudes toward love). But as a storyteller, I was somewhat tempted by the idea that a sad ending might leave a deeper impression. However, I quickly abandoned that thought—here, I must quote E.M. Forster’s comment on the fairy-tale-like happy ending of Maurice, which was written in a historical context where such an ending seemed almost impossible: “A happy ending was imperative. I shouldn’t have bothered to write otherwise. I was determined that in fiction anyway two men should fall in love and remain in it for the ever and ever that fiction allows, and in this sense, Maurice and Alec still roam the greenwood.”
Finally, I bow in gratitude to all who accompanied me during the serialization of this novel—your comments have been a tremendous source of support and the best reward; and to all the readers who have made it this far, I’m delighted that you were willing to share in the various emotions contained within this story.
0 Comments