The archive of the forgotten

The better one ~ the family

The next morning I wake up early. I wash my hair, delighted to have my own shower where I do not have to time how long I take. A shower where there is possibility of hot water. I leave my hair down to dry and shave, the mirror looks clearer than the ones I am used to. But I wonder if I like it, you can see the slight difference between the width of my pupils, the flaw I had forgotten a long time ago. I carefully shave and put on a robe to look if I fit in any of the clothes in the closet.
The short answer is no. So I opt to wear the trousers of my uniform with a poet blouse that is too big for me. But I do find some that I would like to wear if they fit a little bit better. I especially like the turquoise waistcoat with gold lining and details. It reminds me of things my father used to wear, although they used to be leather instead of silk and cotton. I grab some of them and walk out of the room, I descend the stairs. I find his mum in the kitchen reading the morning paper.

"Good morning ma'am." I say
"You're up rather early." She says as she looks up and takes off her reading glasses.
"I am used to it, we normally clean the school." I say with a smile. "I have a question, am I allowed to make some changes to these clothes. I do not fit them at all. And I would like some options if you would allow me to do so."
She smiles "Of course you may."
"Another question, do you happen to have a sewing machine?" I ask with a smile as I grab my own sewing kit.
"Of course."

And so we are sitting across the table, she is reading while I am sewing. I make the adjustments carefully and swiftly. The way my mother taught me, just like she taught me lacemaking. I look at the sleeves on my poet shirt and get an idea. When I am finally done with the trousers, jackets, and waistcoats, I grab the three blouses I chose and grab my old lacemaking tools. I close my eyes and remember the patterns my mother taught me and I wind the white thread around the spindle. I see the patterns of my childhood forming quickly as my hands remember the flowers I used to make instinctively.
"Wow." Thrjel's voice startles me. His hand rests on my shoulder. "How'd you do that?"
"It's lacemaking, it's not hard, my mother taught me it's part of our culture here. I could teach you the basics once I am done with this one."
Thrjel sits down next to me and sighs. "What is the most beautiful part about Fianlynd's culture Xad?"
I shrug and frown, "It's hard to choose one thing."
"But if you had to?" He asks as he puts his head on the table. He's still wearing his pyjama and his hair is fluffy from his sleep.
"I adore that it is like weeds. Our culture will sprout everywhere, we will survive in hard conditions, and we will come back stronger if you rip us out. It's......the resilience of our culture that I admire most." I say with a short smile.
He looks at me and I see a longing for belonging in his eyes. As if he wished he had been taught more about half of his culture in his life. I tie the last edge of the lace and attach it to the sleeve of the blouse.

"Boys?" Sostrate asks
I immediately stand up, he just lifts his head in disinterest.
"Would you please go outside and pick some blueberries for the pancakes? I will make the batter meanwhile." She says with a smile.
"Yes Ma'am" I say.
"We just got up Mum!" He says as he puts his head on the table again.
I ruffle his hair "Correction, you just got up." I say with a chuckle.

We walk through the garden and start picking the blueberries. I remember doing this with my mum when I was younger, it wasn't in our garden though, it was in the forest not too far from our house. I smile and remember the good times I used to have with my sister, when the world ignored us for a moment. Our lives were beautiful, really, I would not have wished for anything else. But that was only if we were lucky enough to be invisible for a time.
"Xad, come here." Thrjel whispers. I walk up to him, he drags me down and points to a bush when I suddenly I can see it. A fox, I feel a tear in my eye as I look at Thrjel. "Your favourite." He whispers and he stares at it.
"It's beautiful." I whisper and the shy animal scurries away. We stand up and pick more berries, Thrjel snacks on some.
"What fertilizer do you use?" I ask as I snicker.
He shrugs and smiles. I look over the beautiful garden and the forest that surrounds it, the oasis of peace is something you would read about in the old folk tales my mum would know by heart. And my cynical heart tried to forget, but hopelessly I have clung unto them.
"Thrjel?"
"Yes?"
"I...I don't know how to say how grateful I am. I feel like I have been running for the past years and you have made a place where I can finally catch my breath. You have no idea how compassionate you are."
He wraps his arm around me. "You underestimate my ego Xad." He chuckles.
I tilt my head and smile my unassuming smile. He looks at the sky and sighs. He looks at me and smiles brightly.
"So Xad, why is the fox your favourite animal?"
I bite my lip and frown. "I never thought about it, I... I think because I used to see them a lot when I was young. Till the industrialisation began of course. And maybe the fact that people are frightened of them, while there is nothing to be afraid of. It might kill a chicken, but it's probably more frightened of you."
"I never saw their appeal." He says as he looks at me and back at the forest. "But in hindsight, they think more than any other animal. Under that reserved hesitation there is probably an animal that's easy to love." He goes on, he wants to put his hand on my shoulder but I look back a the house and see his mum cooking.
"We should probably give your mum the berries." I say as I turn around, avoiding his hand. "Whoever is the last is a raw pancake." I yell while I begin to run.
"Unfair!" He screams.