Forest is close, trees are far

1. Vibeke

Vibeke lived on two other sides.

When she was in the Capital, none of them manifested as they did in her native, as she called it, natural habitat. 

Somewhere far, where buildings are taller than any trees and everyone is stranger and standing  next to them everyone seems to know themselves no more, there no one and nothing cared about the sides. But upon returning home, everything changed.

Vibeke never cared about the looks and whispers, she didn't mind the comments that reached her father after family lunches, the comments whose presence she felt even before she left the dining room and quickly, quickly slipped into the garden or her room, anywhere away from words that like drills try to forge her into the person she should be.

 When she was smaller and not so fast, but still too fast in surrendering to curiosity, she used to stop at the door just before it closed behind her, and eavesdrop on adults who would stay talking at the table, mostly men, while women after shortly everyone finished their meal, began to get up from the table and in a tense dance among each other, started to collect dirty dishes from the table, only occasionally interfering in the conversation with a few remarks.

"There will be nothing from that little one. It's bad, bad. I see her playing football with some boys all day." Yes, and every time the team I play in wins, little Vibeke thought.

"Let her go, Grandma. Let the child play. The playground is for everyone. " The mother paused with plates already in her hands, defending her mischievous daughter in a calm voice. 

"I will not comment. Give it here."Grandma suddenly on the  brink of rage, but she had to relent when she saw she hadn't reaped the reaction she had hoped for. The other glances did not move from the TV on the dresser.

Vibeke spent days, and especially nights, trying to figure out why her game was the subject of adult conversation. She must have done something awful when they mentioned her only after she left. But she couldn't figure out what it could be. Although she did not understand why her grandmother mentioned her play with such indignation in her voice, she knew that her mother was right and that was why no one agreed with her. Because even then she knew that it was the hardest thing to agree with the truth, especially if you didn't want it to be true. She didn't like it at all. The world was supposed to be big and elusive and ready to be discovered, not as bizarre and boring as the adults described it.

One such evening, after another eavesdropping and another defense of a local girl who fixes cars in her uncle's workshop instead of going to the city of Strangers to study because 'what could be better than that' is argued by adults, as if they were some great experts in the science of 'about the best for one's life', a science in which everyone is an expert, but no one has degree because that science is not yet recognized, Vibeke decided. 

She wrote a letter to her father and left it in the pocket of his coat where she was most certain she would find it and read it. She decided she couldn't play for both sides. It will either be theirs or her own. If she tries to be both, she won't become either. Just another bird that tried to fly but failed to learn. So she stayed in the nest forever because neither  can she take off, nor can she descend from the branch out of fear that paralyzed her. 

So Vibeke chose the first, other side. In the morning, though, she quickly took the letter out of her father's coat before he left for work, for she did not have so much courage yet, but she had enough to stay on the side she had chosen.

The second other side was not difficult to choose. There was no need for a single letter. She became part of it overnight. A few words and she went from good girls, to good ones who realized that goodness doesn't get you anywhere.