|
While the Summer was
waiting at the custom's crossing to enter to Autumn, my legs were
dragging me along the road from Sveti Duh towards Ilica. I have just
left my mother who went through the operation in the hospital and
asked myself when this Zagreb district would bring me some luck. I
felt sadness and sorrow circulating through the air, swinging me
while I was walking, and my spirit was just like a crazy car driver
that was driving along the wrong side of the road. I was going down
to St. Anthony's, another place that made me so wistful and unhappy.
How long has it passed? Well, almost half a year, it seems! Hana and
I in red jackets one close to another on the church bench, God's
Word in the Winter soon to be over, clasped hands and the eyes full
of yearning. Yes, I was in love with Hana, even though we had met
only few months earlier and we were not a real couple. So, we even
pray together. I was happy as a child when he gets an excellent
mark. To say the truth I was a child. Only few days after that
evening she solemnly said she needed an older man and then I
realized that the words she spoke and the prayers did not meen
anything to her. I was desperate and even accused St. Anthony for
being in collusion with this rather mendacious girl, and helping her
in cheating me. I tried not to be selfish in my sadness. Anyway,
this girl actually cheated us and St. Anthony. Still, I could not
forgive anyone.
When my mother had
gall-bladder attack and when she ended up in the hospital, the first
thing I thought was: I have to pass by the Saint who did not like
me! Yes, the road I was walking towards the hospital was inevitable,
and I did not even blinked when I started climbing up the street
that led to the Sveti Duh hospital; I passed by the church as if it
wasn't there. I turned my back to the stone bulding; I turned my
back to the one who took girl's side, a side of a girl who squeezed
my feelings as toothpaste and then made a crater where I used to
have a heart. I was not happy, I was hurt, and I continued climbing
along the street. Now my thoughts were again preocupied with my
mother's health condition.
On the left side my
eyes could see a nicely kept garden of the army of the one that left
me. The tortuos path did not struggle against its sweet inprisonment
among the flowers of the good. It lived for the flowers that
actually were on the way to find a real path. Even to that heavenly
scene I turned my back, asking myself if I would ever be happy
somewhere just like that oasis of perfumes.
I was already out of
breath, not because the road was that bad, but because I was not in
good shape. I entered into a shop to get some juice and apples and I
crossed the road at the ned of my odyssey towards my ill parent. I
entered the hospital at the top of the city only with a thought to
see my mother soon out of it. Probably I am one of the many who are
allergic to the smell that spread inside this obnoxious building,
the smell that is a mixture of hope, old age, infirmity and bad
food. As any other naive person, I put hope on the top and -
remained helpless. Here even dreams have to be operated, because
they contain too much hope. My mother, in spite of the fear that
shook me, was feeling well. She did not look good, but she was well.
I couldn't connect well the words and the sad street, church and
hospital, so it was very strange to see a smile above the valley of
tears. We talked, laughed, cried a bit and expressed our wish for
peaceful hospital nights.
Few minutes later I
was again at the beginning of the story, going down towards the
longest street with a fear in my heart, pardon me, a crater. In
front of me there was again a wall above which I could have a
wonderful view of the St. Anthony's garden.
Why are you staring,
young man? - I heard the voice, and then I noticed the gardener
looking at me. He did not have clothes like a saint, but simple
trousers and a shirt, and in his hands there were scissors for the
hedge that he was cutting carefully.
I am just passing by
- I replied almost angryly, considering the man who spoke to me as a
friend of my ex friend.
Come on man, you are
not he first one staring at the Whitey. People constantly keep
coming! - said the gardener.
Excuse me, but what
are you talking about? I have to go! - I started walking when I
heard the loud laughing along the street.
Well, young man, are
you blind when you can't see this beauty? And I think even the blind
ones can feel her presence from far away more then you do. - he
shouted. I turned and saw him pointing with his head in which
direction I should look. I remained speechless.
A Rose. A big white
rose was climbing up in the sky. I could not believe I did not see
it earlier. Is it possible there is something more beautiful than
beautiful? For a moment I disregarded rage towards St. Anthony and I
remained simply impressed with something extremely simple. It was
the rose, discreet, the main character of the area in which she will
spend her time. Now it seems that the paths of the Franciscan garden
have their goal, to take away all those who try to make dirty St.
Anthony's rose. With thoughts, deeds and negligence. I will not lie
to you, I still did not have a heart, I still resented some old
stories to St. Anthony, but I wanted to separate this flower from my
human fires.
You say, many people come to watch the Whitey, that's her name,
isn't it? - I asked the gardener of the one who has forgotten me.
Ofcourse, it is not
difficult to realize, is it?
And you take care of
the St. Antony's rose, and it shouldn't be so hard. - I said
separating my soul from the Whitey.
You said it all,
young man! - those were the last words said to me by this strange
man, who continued taking care of the flowers.
Not having enough of
the rose, I continued walking towards the lights of the city. Again
I was thinking about flow of time, about a person who from the bush
exhausted me emotionally, about my mother and hope, the gardener,
church that looked me in the eye; But the Whitey was above all. Man,
a simple plant impressed me, I laughed inside. And then I had a
thought; What if even she betrays me, if she lets me touch her and
then realize she is only a plastic decoration, another deception?
Well, you shoul believe it is not artificial! Exactly, to feel she
is real, to be ready to caress her all day only with a look, maybe
without any chance to check it is all you dreamed about! So, I was
surprised by a flower and the words of the gardener, a strange man
who draw my attention to something like that, and then became silent
as if he was not there. Then I realized again that the Whitey is in
the garden of a saint I was in fight with, who probably wants me to
fall in love again, to suffer again. The prayers with Hana did not
cool enough, and he sends me another rose.
And again, maybe his
wish is not that bad, maybe he wishes me all the best. Only, how
will I find strength to come again to him, how will I gather all my
courage and dare to walk into the place I was happy only for a
while. Well, in a way, I was not unhappy inside the garden, but only
outside. If Hana and I remained all ther time praying, maybe
everything would ended up well. A word did not mean anything to a
crater, and the heart probably would not take everything for
granted.
While we are inside
the garden, ha? I turned my back to the Saint again, the noise from
the street was irresistibly coming nearer. I realized that tonight
in the street I am leaving my dearest. But I'll be back. Because of
my mother. Still. And because of the Whitey I may change the thouhts
I shared with you. Beacause I am having some hard times. You have to
believe, I think, in that rose I fall in love with at first sight.
If roses could talk ... You have to believe. |
