Dear
Bloggers,
There
are amazing sounds coming from the little silhouette in the tree. The
dark blue sky shoots through the small beak. Could there also be
birds who do not dare to sing their song? Who only sing their
father's psalms when sitting next to him on a twig. My dad could tell
me directly what name this little animal has received. With his eyes
closed. So he must have seen it with me too. I did not know what a
sissy was. Some kind of vegetable, I thought. At least I understood
that it was something dirty. Not that I was busy with those kind of
things. I did not search for these kind of answers as I do nowadays
constantly. Just because I am curious and want to know why? Things
were just the way they were and yes it was bad news and I had to man
up. But in that regard, I was perhaps more a sensitive guy and
sometimes I was maybe more a girl or a little sissy like my father
called it.
For
example, my mother always had tea ready when I came home after
school. It seemed like she had been waiting the whole day for us,
something that I could do as well. Just I love to hang out with my
wife and kids. I was really a bit of a softy who could enjoy these
little loving and caring things that my mother did. Yes and I was a
pretty simple guy, I burned my lips and tongue on my tea over and
over again.
Next
to each other, we sat in the window sill, our wet hairs against the
glass that protected us against the ticking drops that wanted to get
in. We just had been under the shower. She looked at me. I looked at
her. We sat together hand in hand in the window sill. The ticking was
going on and it felt like that the window had disappeared and all the
drops of the world sat in my body and wanted to get out. Tickling,
tingling, tickling against the inside of my skin, my belly, my
eyelids, my burned tongue and lips.
Abducted
by my shivering spine. Sitting there in the window sill I saw how
she, cold as ice, took a few big slugs of the steamy tea. Why did not
I see that, she was not a little softy girl at all? And yes she was a
lot harder and tougher than me. But I did not care about that I just
loved her and did not really know yet, what I could do with this
girl. So I just enjoyed each moment we had together.
Now
I'm sitting on a bench in a park looking at a little bird whose name
I do not know. It's singing so beautiful that it's got to be afraid
of love and it must be heartbroken. Only years later, I just realized
that there were many other possibilities in relations, and that boys
with boys and girls could be with other girls and that these were the
so-called sissies. So I was not a little sissy but a little wimp or a
softy. In the years that I went to sea and sailed internationally, I
discovered that this was not strange and that these people are
actually very nice people. And some have become really the ones that
should be counted to my best friends. So, I did not understand
anything about fear of gays, no, they really don't play with you and
it's not really contagious.
I've
been married with a marvelous woman and I understand that luckily
we're not all being the same. The fact that I was not a sissy-boy was
something I showed during my military service. I struggled and fought
hard and cautiously there was only one way and that was only forward
and it was sometimes that it felt tough and the road was heavy but
with your comrades you can do a lot. Although there are some things
that stick forever in your system, but it has made me the man I am
now. And I'm very proud of it, even though I have to tell it to
myself. I
am maybe a bit off the wagon, but I think you should be a little bit
crazy and I think it;s actually very healthy.
Do you see that
there is an old exercise book between my feet on the ground? With
the two horses on the cover. One white and one black, both are
galloping, running, jogging. Ah, whatever. In that exercise book I
wrote my first voluntary sentences. Her name is on top of each page.
After a sweet story about just fun things and yes, what did I have a
huge butterfly garden in my belly.
Suddenly I saw those horses
grazing between my old school stuff. Stories about her and me. That
we walked into the village hand in hand. She secretly stayed with me
without touching her own bed. I have described millions of kisses in
detail. Descriptions of kisses that I would give her. And then there
are only empty pages left, Blank, Virgin white pages. The stories
stopped when she unfortunately did not come back to me again. What we
were to each other it did not come back to me. She all of a sudden
just collapsed and died on a volleyball court in a sports hall. What
do I hate tumors in the brain. There are all those empty pages again.
Why
does that little beast in my head not shut up? Why do the hollow
sounds of the little creature still enter the empty night? I will
flick him out of that tree with this damn book. It will now know that
nobody will listen to him if I hit him with these running horses on
his beak. I'm on to the bloody beast with his big mouth. Nobody will
be able to see on which side the beak was. With a Smile on my face I
will listen to the squeeze and the bloodshed of the blood under the
weight of my foot. Very short and fierce I will laugh. Then tears
will come and their will be regret. I will scrape the puddle with
feathers from underneath my boot. I will punch it and push the air on
my hand. "Fly, fly, fly again please," I'll whisper to it,
"sing, sing, sing please." His parents will be heartbroken
pops in my mind, all of a sudden. An t question myself: So much
sadness and why? I'm still angry with the fact that someone will be
ripped so out of your life. No, you don't want to give this to your
worst enemy. For years I have been thinking about the deep wounds
that must have struck in the life's of the parents, siblings,
school friends and friends.
And
what to think of what was still to be explored in the field of love.
Hardly and all of a sudden stopped every one's world and I became sick
of the thought that I could never see her again and that I could not
hold her anymore. Never more the fun together and doing things
together. No, I picked up my life again and I could not change
anything about it. Still, I ask myself these questions and I can
sometimes walk around with this. Probably at a certain time she would
have walked and had found somewhere in the world a tanned Adonis that
could've made her happier. But yes ,,,,,,, I will never get these
answers. The Lord is merciful but also about that I am no longer
sure.
The galloping horses do not blow up any dust in my
brain. It's been almost 35 years since and my life has known a lot of
ups and downs. But never has anyone ever called me a sissy again. And
yes, meanwhile, I am also the father of two children, and I hope I
will do things better than my own parents, but that's the purpose of
every parent in my opinion. I'm also making mistakes and I've
forgiven my father for a long time. He was full of grief as such
a young life should not stop this way, his heart broke as every
parents heart would, he had to get us back on track as a family
because everyday life just goes on. As I grow older, I notice more
and more that people around me sometimes have deep scratches on their
souls.
There are still beautiful sounds from the silhouette in
the tree. The vocals of animal are answered by another birdie and
suddenly they shoot through the branches. So there is always a new
beginning and this is probably the most beautiful thing in the world.
It's just those little things that can make life so beautiful. And
then I realize that bench where I'm sitting alone and that I just
have to go on with the most beautiful memories and the thoughts that
just came together. I hope therefore whatever you should do in this
life, think it's been worth it and I had the chance doing the most
wonderful things in my life. Sometimes I was falling on my face pretty
hard and I just wiped my tears away and took my loss, Even when it
hurt I still got up again. So be careful with what you are
saying to someone.
The
Old Sailor,