#5 ‘FearLess’
ELEMENTARY
5.
’FearLess’
Children were strange to me back then. I found it difficult to relate to them, simply because they were so spoiled, overprotected, and unreasonable. Helpless and rude. They had toys and games I didn’t know how to play since the opportunity to do so was rare. I didn’t go to visit them, not to catch the germ of ordinary, and they didn’t dare come visit me. I was busy becoming a violinist, and they didn’t dare to face my tall father.
I met Margareta when we were four years old. We went to the same kindergarten and later to the same class in the first grade of school. Our relationship was true, strong and it felt like we always knew each other. She was the bravest, smartest, warm-hearted red-haired little girl in the world. We were both very happy kids and we laughed a lot. Her eyes fascinated me deeply. They looked serious and alert even in the moments of full joy. Like if she was always ready to pull us out of trouble, always fully present in every moment, seeing the now. Just like me, she was an only child. She was my sister, my everything. She was independent, blessed with trustful parents, and capable. Together, we were the cheekiest two girls. Inseparable and adventurous. I rarely ever trusted anybody like I still trust her after long years of separation.
In the evenings, when my parents were away giving concerts, she would sneak into my apartment and just before they would get back sneak out again, leaving me pretending that I was long asleep.
My bed was placed in the entrance corridor of our one-room apartment. To get to the kitchen or the living room, that turned into a sleeping room of my parents at night, you had to make an effort not to bump into a sofa that at night opened to be my bed. The sound of the key unlocking the front door made my heart always beat fast. A mix of disappointment and fear taking the magic away. I still have that feeling whenever I hear a key unlocking a door. Fear of being disrupted. I remember my mother leaning over me looking for proof that I am not asleep. I used to spend hours observing and researching people sleeping, turning that research into a skilful act. I trained hard imitating a person breathing and behaving during deep sleep. The movements of the eyes, the rhythm of the breath, tiny sounds here and there, not too often… I was developing a sense of integrity and will. Developing skills in performing.
Later, when we moved to a more spacious apartment, at another end of the city and I had my own room, Margareta never came to visit and I lost contact with her until my forties. When we met again, we were still two little grownup girls, I was still a dreamer and her serious eyes still made me calm, trustful, and fearless.
