Zbornik Mednarodnega literarnega srečanja Vilenica 2004 - Ljudmila

Barbara Simoniti
The Way Back
I stepped into Slovene.
It was only now I realized that another language meant another way of
existence as well.
It always seemed to me that at home we spoke Slovene out of some
kind of obstinacy. Proud and important, but obstinacy, nevertheless. As I
once asked my Grandma why, she looked at me in surprise, »Simply because
we’re Slovene. How else should we speak, otherwise?«
I went to German school, but grew up with the poetry of Gregorčič,
Aškerc and Župančič. Life was divided into two parts: as soon as the front
door closed, they shut behind them all that was private. We talked, ate
and prayed in Slovene; beyond the door, on visits, in shops and in the
theatres, the outward life took place in German. The division was strictly
observed.
I let myself down into the rigidly upholstered airplane seat and reached
for the tough belt with a heavy metal clasp. I shortened it and placed it in
my lap. Its reliability lay down heavily on me. In the air, caught standing
in the shell, the stifled expectation was growing. For me, the best part of
the flight is always the takeoff: when the airplane accelerates and dashes
along the runway, faster and faster and faster, as if it had no limitations,
then all the weight falls off me and I rise into the heights with relief.
A stewardess approached me along the narrow corridor. She pushed a
huge, bedrawered trolley in front of her and stopped over and over again.
She addressed the passengers with an adopted smile, and poured them
drinks. Beer, vine or squash; Slovene, English or German. I swallowed the
fear in my throat and decided in a moment:
»Squash, please.«
She was not a bit surprised; she handed me the glass, half full with
yellow liquid and a white paper napkin, with a smooth gesture. And she
was past me.
I stepped over the line; I joined the unjoinable. I became a whole being.
I leaned on the arms of the seat and looked through the window. The
Alpine relief lowered and spread into fertile valleys. Slovenia was stretched
below me in the form of a green-brown chess board of meadows and fields.
A stingingly bright emotion seized me and flooded my eyes.
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