the oak tree
I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was peering through the glass window in the attic. The clouds were dark and the moon was casting bright streams of light on the oak tree. In my hands I held a pair of golden necklaces and some rings I had taken from my mother’s hidden boxes. I made sure that my favourite doll was in my strawberry-shaped backpack. My father and brother were already downstairs packing the things they wanted to bring along. The house was silent than ever. Even this attic, where my big brother and I used to play hide and seek every day, had now become not much more than a mess of dust and old moth-eaten blankets. “Emily, come down immediately. We have to leave”, father was calling. His voice sounded loud and firm as always. I closed the jewellery boxes, put them back in the drawers, and went downstairs. On the first floor, I stopped for a moment. The door in the middle drew my attention. I couldn’t help the tears that came to my eyes. By pressing my lips I tried to stop it, but it was no use. Two salty drops fell on the floor as I bent my head. I was so caught up in my memories that I dropped all the golden items on the floor, and I guess the noise attracted some attention, because I soon sensed a presence to the right of me. “Emily”, my brother whispered. He did not say more than that. My lips were still trembling but I knew we had to get a move on. I glanced at him for a second, and saw the look on his face. “Okay”, I whispered and I bent to pick up the jewellery. We heard the backdoor shut as we walked into the garden. Father was carrying bags of the potatoes we had harvested together that evening. I knew the time that was to come wouldn’t be easy. As I walked past the oak tree I tried to take long strides, as fast as I could, but with caution. My eyes only watched my feet and the wet soil beneath it. The leaves of the plants smelled like rainforest. Now and then a small stick cracked under my feet, making me shiver and press my lips. We had to be quiet, my father said. And especially now, we would never dream of disobeying him. Keeping that in mind, I listened to the sounds of the night. It was as if they were welcoming us to the forest. But the seemingly warm welcome soon changed. Several lights appeared to our left. I ducked and tried to peer through the grass. Father whispered that we had to lay still till he said we could move again. This was not the first time I saw the green-spotted wagons with the men in them. They wore green helmets and were carrying weapons. The same kind of men that came to the door two days ago, when my mom opened the door.
We were lucky that night. We were able to hide in some people’s houses in exchange for the golden items and could cook our potatoes there. Eventually we took the boat and moved overseas and built our lives there. My brother went to university and my father found a job. I finished school and worked for an old people’s home for some years. There, I met my husband. But that country was not my home. I didn’t feel at ease. So I had returned. When I arrived at the house for the first time after all those years, I was completely shocked. The place I once called home, was no more. We did follow the news about the war till the end, and saw the images of towns being eaten by flames. But still I could not imagine that happening to my own home. The house did not even resemble our house anymore. I had to restore it with the help of my husband and new neighbours to make it our new home. From the big oak tree in the front, nothing was left but a black stump. That was one thing I didn’t want to restore. Sometimes I can hear my mom calling me again, that supper was ready. And when I asked if I could bring Sacha, she would always say “of course dear, she will get a bowl too” and so she did. Not to forget that it was only for that I loved my doll so much that she would do such strange thing. She was that caring. I never got the chance to thank her for everything she did for us. If it wasn’t for her, we would not have been alive.
The day the green-clothed men arrived, the three of us were upstairs, listening to the conversation at the door. They asked her where the rest of her family was. She told them she had always lived there by herself. The man on the left pointed his gun at her and demanded her to tell the truth. Teardrops came streaming down my father’s eyes. He didn’t want her to do this, but my mother insisted. The loud bang on the floor made me tremble and instantly I wanted to scream but my father covered my mouth with his hand. The sound of footsteps got softer and eventually we heard their car drive away. Our mother had given us the freedom she wanted us to have.
“Mommy”, my daughter shouted. “Yes dear”, I said. “Can we visit grandma?” By the looks on her face and the flowers in her hand, I noticed she wanted to bring those with us. She picked them in the field this afternoon. From there, we walked back to our house. My daughter ran to the oak tree and laid the flowers on its surface. After he, I walked to the black branch as well and bent my knees. She looked at me with a big smile. From my backpack I fetched Sacha and put her next to the flowers. “Mommy? Do you think grandma is in heaven?” I pressed my lips, smiled and said “Yes dear, I know she is.”
Brendy Batenburg
We were lucky that night. We were able to hide in some people’s houses in exchange for the golden items and could cook our potatoes there. Eventually we took the boat and moved overseas and built our lives there. My brother went to university and my father found a job. I finished school and worked for an old people’s home for some years. There, I met my husband. But that country was not my home. I didn’t feel at ease. So I had returned. When I arrived at the house for the first time after all those years, I was completely shocked. The place I once called home, was no more. We did follow the news about the war till the end, and saw the images of towns being eaten by flames. But still I could not imagine that happening to my own home. The house did not even resemble our house anymore. I had to restore it with the help of my husband and new neighbours to make it our new home. From the big oak tree in the front, nothing was left but a black stump. That was one thing I didn’t want to restore. Sometimes I can hear my mom calling me again, that supper was ready. And when I asked if I could bring Sacha, she would always say “of course dear, she will get a bowl too” and so she did. Not to forget that it was only for that I loved my doll so much that she would do such strange thing. She was that caring. I never got the chance to thank her for everything she did for us. If it wasn’t for her, we would not have been alive.
The day the green-clothed men arrived, the three of us were upstairs, listening to the conversation at the door. They asked her where the rest of her family was. She told them she had always lived there by herself. The man on the left pointed his gun at her and demanded her to tell the truth. Teardrops came streaming down my father’s eyes. He didn’t want her to do this, but my mother insisted. The loud bang on the floor made me tremble and instantly I wanted to scream but my father covered my mouth with his hand. The sound of footsteps got softer and eventually we heard their car drive away. Our mother had given us the freedom she wanted us to have.
“Mommy”, my daughter shouted. “Yes dear”, I said. “Can we visit grandma?” By the looks on her face and the flowers in her hand, I noticed she wanted to bring those with us. She picked them in the field this afternoon. From there, we walked back to our house. My daughter ran to the oak tree and laid the flowers on its surface. After he, I walked to the black branch as well and bent my knees. She looked at me with a big smile. From my backpack I fetched Sacha and put her next to the flowers. “Mommy? Do you think grandma is in heaven?” I pressed my lips, smiled and said “Yes dear, I know she is.”
Brendy Batenburg