Said he Said she

------------- This is me, said he.
And this is me, said she.
-------------
(and this is me, said I: http://oh-and.tumblr.com)
This is me in 1950. I woke up in the morning and was surprised that the sun was shining. I drank coffee for breakfast that my husband didn’t finish before he went for a walk with the dog. His aunt was visiting us. I never really liked her. She made me and my husband go for a walk up the hill behind our house where he took this picture at 10.34am. In the moment he triggered the shutter I was wondering if I will ever see the sea and the fact that I didn’t know the answer made me very angry. It was a desperate anger that I didn’t know how to get rid of and it accompanied me to bed that evening and made me dream of ships full with christmas trees that my husband built in our garden and me telling him that he doesn’t understand a single thing.  My husband’s aunt started to sing a song some minutes after the picture was taken and I sang with her because there was nothing else to do. My husband laughed and told us that we are two of his three most beloved women. I hoped that we would get a daughter soon so I can get out of this ranking.  Years later we went to the funeral of his aunt and later on he framed the picture and put in on the wall in our living room. I am looking at it now. I am looking at me looking back at me while wondering if I will ever see the sea. I know the answer by now. It is different to what I expected. It didn’t make the ships in my dreams go away. It helped. But not enough. 

This is me in 1950. I woke up in the morning and was surprised that the sun was shining. I drank coffee for breakfast that my husband didn’t finish before he went for a walk with the dog. His aunt was visiting us. I never really liked her. She made me and my husband go for a walk up the hill behind our house where he took this picture at 10.34am. In the moment he triggered the shutter I was wondering if I will ever see the sea and the fact that I didn’t know the answer made me very angry. It was a desperate anger that I didn’t know how to get rid of and it accompanied me to bed that evening and made me dream of ships full with christmas trees that my husband built in our garden and me telling him that he doesn’t understand a single thing. 

My husband’s aunt started to sing a song some minutes after the picture was taken and I sang with her because there was nothing else to do. My husband laughed and told us that we are two of his three most beloved women. I hoped that we would get a daughter soon so I can get out of this ranking. 

Years later we went to the funeral of his aunt and later on he framed the picture and put in on the wall in our living room. I am looking at it now. I am looking at me looking back at me while wondering if I will ever see the sea. I know the answer by now. It is different to what I expected. It didn’t make the ships in my dreams go away. It helped. But not enough. 

This is me in 1981. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I just had a long conversation with my nephew on the phone. He talked a lot about his newborn daughter for who he and his wife chose a very ridiculous name. He promised to visit us within the following months but that was a lie. The next time I saw him was in fact the funeral of my husband, a man who had five years more to live when this picture was taken. As you can see I am wearing my favourite shirt which I got as a present from myself on a day not worth mentioning for any other reason. I am standing in front of the fence my husband and I put up the summer before. It was without any doubt the most beautiful fence in the whole neighbourhood. Behind a small gate a path lead down to the river where we used to have jour Sunday coffees on a green bench. I’d like to pretend we built that bench ourselves but in fact my husband stole it from a park close by some weeks after we moved into this house. You might ask yourself what I am pointing at. Well, I wish I could remember.

This is me in 1981. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I just had a long conversation with my nephew on the phone. He talked a lot about his newborn daughter for who he and his wife chose a very ridiculous name. He promised to visit us within the following months but that was a lie. The next time I saw him was in fact the funeral of my husband, a man who had five years more to live when this picture was taken.

As you can see I am wearing my favourite shirt which I got as a present from myself on a day not worth mentioning for any other reason. I am standing in front of the fence my husband and I put up the summer before. It was without any doubt the most beautiful fence in the whole neighbourhood. Behind a small gate a path lead down to the river where we used to have jour Sunday coffees on a green bench. I’d like to pretend we built that bench ourselves but in fact my husband stole it from a park close by some weeks after we moved into this house.

You might ask yourself what I am pointing at. Well, I wish I could remember.

This is me in 1964. It was a sunny morning and I had just left work to return home. I was wearing my favourite suit because of a talk I had to give to some students at university. I ironed the shirt myself for the very first time in my life. The black bag I was carrying was actually empty but it made me feel save to have it next to me and lift it up a bit everytime someone said hello to me or the other way round. After the speech the secretary gave me a piece of paper. It said: Your son called. He asks you to come home. I nodded and said: ‘I understand’ The secretary nodded as well. She knew that this was a lie. All the way home I was wondering what it might be. Had someone died, was someone pregnant, did the roof of the house collapse, did Marta finally return, did the horrible neighbours move out, was there an important document in the mail, did my son suddenly realize that I was right about much more than he wanted to admit? This is me. It was a sunny morning, 11:20am. I was walking down a street where I once kissed a girl with a name that sounded like a promise. I was walking in front of a group of women who talked about the sea. I was walking by my favourite bakery and didnt buy anything. I was walking towards home where my son waited for me in the kitchen and said something I would never forget.

This is me in 1964. It was a sunny morning and I had just left work to return home. I was wearing my favourite suit because of a talk I had to give to some students at university. I ironed the shirt myself for the very first time in my life. The black bag I was carrying was actually empty but it made me feel save to have it next to me and lift it up a bit everytime someone said hello to me or the other way round. After the speech the secretary gave me a piece of paper. It said: Your son called. He asks you to come home. I nodded and said: ‘I understand’ The secretary nodded as well. She knew that this was a lie. All the way home I was wondering what it might be. Had someone died, was someone pregnant, did the roof of the house collapse, did Marta finally return, did the horrible neighbours move out, was there an important document in the mail, did my son suddenly realize that I was right about much more than he wanted to admit?

This is me. It was a sunny morning, 11:20am. I was walking down a street where I once kissed a girl with a name that sounded like a promise. I was walking in front of a group of women who talked about the sea. I was walking by my favourite bakery and didnt buy anything. I was walking towards home where my son waited for me in the kitchen and said something I would never forget.

This is me in 1947. Still 35 years after I cut my foot with a piece of glass that was lying on the ground of the river behind my partens house I was frightened to get into any kind of water without my shoes on. My wife bought them for one of my birthdays. She wrapped them up in red paper and didnt smile when I unpacked them. My wife didnt smile a lot. Neither did I. I never thought about that till one Monday in the late 60s when we ate cake and she was wearing a green dress and I was wearing a green tie and I suddenly realized: its only pictures I remember. Not feelings. Not a single feeling at all. I looked at her and said: This cant be all. My wife bit on her lips and and left the table. I never felt so close to her like in this very moment.

This is me in 1947. Still 35 years after I cut my foot with a piece of glass that was lying on the ground of the river behind my partens house I was frightened to get into any kind of water without my shoes on. My wife bought them for one of my birthdays. She wrapped them up in red paper and didnt smile when I unpacked them. My wife didnt smile a lot. Neither did I. I never thought about that till one Monday in the late 60s when we ate cake and she was wearing a green dress and I was wearing a green tie and I suddenly realized: its only pictures I remember. Not feelings. Not a single feeling at all. I looked at her and said: This cant be all. My wife bit on her lips and and left the table. I never felt so close to her like in this very moment.