Silent, tender rain drops were flying gently and you could hear how they were crashing on the ground and sinking down the soil. Cracking the dry earth, quenching its thirst. The earth was gulping down their purity and the green became greener, the flowers flirtatiously perked up their blooms, boasting with their insane colours. The cornets – as violet as the deepest ocean waters, the pileworts- as green as small, warm suns, the pansies- as blue as wet indigo, the roses- as red as the cock’s crest, the grass stalks were standing upright as guardians of joy.
Only humans were dashing to their dry homes, holding Merry Poppins umbrellas spread wide open, wrapped in raincoats, always making sure their hairdo is O.K.
The child opened the house door and ran to the meadow in front of the big veranda. Her hair was floating with the wild wind and glittering raindrops were slowly descending on her shining face, caressing it and kissing it. Wet, pure kisses. She knelt down and tucked her hair behind the ears.
“Came to see how you are. You’ve grown up so much! Mum says that rain is good for you. So don’t you worry, my little onion. I will not water you now; you have plenty of rain. Mum says we are going to bring you company. A friend gave us a rose bush with the roots and we’re going to plant it here, next to you. A big rose bush with big white roses. Roses are very pretty. Shall I tell you about the nightingale and the rose?”
And she was talking, almost whispering the story of the rose and the nightingale and her eyes turned into dark skies and those skies poured down. Salty, heavy teardrops.
“And when the student went to see the girl he loved and gave her the rose, she threw it there, in the ditch. Can you believe that? And the nightingale died and the moon stopped the sun...”
She sobbed and gently touched the green leaves of her little onion.
“Mum says there is war now. War is when some people kill other people, who killed other people before. I keep asking Mum why, and she always says because people are stupid and she looks so sad. I always ask why and sometimes Mum explains and shows things to me. And sometimes she is so silent and cries. When I ask her if animals make war, she says nothing and when I ask her if there are really hungry and thirsty children in the world and if children die when there is war, she always takes a sheet of paper and we draw a rainbow. I ask about the poor children. We are not rich we are sometimes very poor and after I saw that movie about those children in Africa I try to eat all my food. I ask Mum why people who have so much never give to people who have nothing or very little. Mum says that those who have much, don’t like giving away and those who don’t have, they want to give away but they have nothing to give. It’s so confusing sometimes. When I ask Mum if we can help, she takes me by the hand and we go out to watch the moon. You are sleeping when the moon is up. We bought binoculars from the charity shop and I can see Lucky’s star. You know my kitten is in the sky and I can see his star every night.
I don’t understand. I’m too young. At school I give all my markers to Holly because her Mum has no job and they are three children and sometimes she has no markers. And when it was Konstantin’s birthday, he didn’t give chocolates to all of us. And when I asked why, Mum went to the shop, bought a box of chocolates and the next morning she gave it to Konstantin’s father and said “Happy birthday to your son. Here, take those for the rest if the children. I suppose you’ve run out of small change.” Sometimes I don’t understand Mum. Konstantin’s father is very rich. He must have left his money at home. I have to go back now. Mum told me not to stay too long in the rain and now we’ll replant the pansies. I’ll see you again before dinner.”
And Mum silently slipped back into the house, closed silently the door before the child had stood up, locked the bathroom door and wept bitterly. In silence. Then, she put the smile on and shouted cheerfully: “How’s the onion today. Has it grown up? ”