-Susana? …. Susana?
– Oui, Monsieur ?
– Me cache *
*fr. I’m hidden.
Little head sticks out of the fluffly brown blanket. I am walking with a noise, heavy “tap” on the floor to make Monsiuer realize I’m coming. His body shakes every time I’m getting closer. The anxiety is real, emotions are not fitting into little body, so he shows up just to control where I am. As soon as he notices me, he stirs, head full of blond hair quickly hides in the tent made with brown the blanket. Tap, Tap, Tap. Susana? He is impatient. Tu-e-ou? * I ask a little boy that question although it seems as an absurd to ask him where he is hiding. Then it makes me laugh so much as my body shakes, I simply enjoy the moment as it arrives, the answer: I’m here, Susana. Monsieur unaware I’m already next to him, repeats his position to be sure I will find him.
Lesson number one, Susana: it is not about finding. It is about playing.
*where are you?
That is too much for me. Hot temperature touches all objects in the personless, white dentist waiting room. Not only me but also the baby is handling poorly with the power of nature, or, in other words, with more-than-thirty-grades summer. 24 years of age difference between me and that little sausage in my arms however the reaction is more or less similar: tears, tears that slowly put a bit of relief on our faces. The baby though decides to work on special effects: is screaming with all its soul in my arms. I’m screaming inside, the furious powers take over my behaviour, I ceased to think reasonably. There is anything more that could go worse. But actually it is, a nurse, trying to be helpful, takes the baby for a minute and since then baby has not stopped shouting. My head is dizzy, swirling around with a small 6 kilos in my hands, I am doubting strongly about my future career as a baby sitter or any human person sitter. The baby is not giving up, I feel naked, any of foreign languages I studied is useful, neither almost-graduated-from-university status. These competences end up in a trash bin in front of a little sausage that is crying heavily in my arms in the personless, white dentist waiting room. Welcome in the jungle.
Lesson number two, Susana: crying babies is not a problem. It is a disaster.
On my way to Padua, the city I left after two years of studies. I am sitting in a Swiss train that smoothly moves from station to station. I’m still with a cold caught during my first week of work, I try to occupy as little space as possible to sleep in the corner of the train seat. The head, leaned on the window, heavily goes down when I’m falling asleep .Dreaming of Italian summer and rewriting all memories. Quick selection: good, bad, average ones. Weekend is coming, friends are there, my heart is filling with warmth.
One hour later click click in my pocket informs me we crossed the border. Blessed Europe where the distance of 2 hours allows you to change a “skin”, as we say in Polish. I change a train. There is more European company in this one. We seat in a compartement, for me just a silver can, as one for Coca Cola. Each of us, passengers, pursuing own dreams. I imagine they are just written on the faces or maybe it is just my tired, over heated brain that is making up the stories. Young couplesitting just next to me is exchanging remarks on German novel. Her, tall, slim, in a black “mono”, seems to be incredibly self confident, him, skinny, with tattoos covering all his arms, he is following every her word. At next fermata they go out from train with a package of cigarettes in hand, I admire their courage as the fast train is not stopping for long. When the train departs, they are not back in their seats. I remain surprised as apparently it was their last stop. No luggages couple in La Freccia Rosa makes me realize I am not good at reading in people’s minds. I get back to sleep, imaginating a cup of good espresso.
Weekend is coming.
Lesson number three: there is nothing more pleasant than dreaming of coffee. Hmh.
** main photo (Zuza): coffee and pastry shop in Ratajczaka street, Poznań, Poland