OTHER LIKE- T h e r e s p o n s a b i l i t y o f f e a r

【Ｍｙ ｇｒａｎｄｍｏｔｈｅｒ】

 While my grandmother was knitting woolen socks, the chair sizzled with her swings. I had never seen her look so thoughtful. Her blond locks, almost white, floated in the light wind that came through the window. The front blinds of the kitchen fanned. Distracted by my observations, the sound of the television became a noise, a language I did not recognize. 

 Outside it was cloudy and the dust that came in through the window, through my grandmother's hair, stood out in pieces big enough to see from a distance, thanks to the sunset light. I never saw the sun completely. But if it weren't for my grandmother to describe it and even draw it, I would never know that the sun, that light hidden in the gray clouds, could be that way. Or even that it existed, and that his name is Sun.

 "Stars" she said. "They're pretty. They are white and bright points, they seem even small and round openings in that darkness of Space. As if there were several exits. " 

 The television sound was still inaudible. But it was no longer because of my distraction. The signal was lost. After that sentence, she said nothing more, but I also didn't ask anything.

-Grandma? - she slowly turns her head.

-Say, my fallen flower. - She always calls me a fallen flower. I even asked her why, but she refused to say. She said that one day I would understand.

-What are stars?- The only way I can learn something is to always ask my grandmother. She smile. Leaves the thoughts and looks at me. Her eyes shine with the last sunlight.

-Why do you ask?

-Because I have nothing to do, and now the pollution is at its maximum, I don't want to wear a mask to go out.

-Don't forget that we are no longer in the city.- she drops the knitting, and holds my hands. -we are in the mountains. The purest air on the planet that you can find now, is in the mountains.

-Still? I thought everything was already polluted.- I leave the television control, already sweating with the sweat of my hands, and get up.- I'm going outside.

-Be careful, please.

-Yes grandma, calm down. 

 Since we arrived, I have admired this house. It's been a few years now, my grandmother said it was finished in 2021. We are already in the year 2072. I barefoot and feel the grass at my feet. I don't cross the stone path, because I want to feel the grass, the plants, the life. The road, somewhat worn and with holes, is not used by anyone. My grandparents bought the entire village of Sokolovsti. No one enters or leaves without my grandmother's permission. Everything is blindfolded so no one can break the fence. She has already mentioned that she is about to buy the other village just above, extremely close. Momchilovci. And that's exactly where I'm going. 

From there, it still takes about 10 minutes on foot, but the borders coincide. Along the way, I observe all the details. The trees, many of which are deciduous, are bare. The others, of persistent leaf, intact. I walk on some giant, yellow leaves. I keep one.

 The mixture of yellow and orange impresses me. The brown veins, once alive, outlined the leaf, making it perfect.

 I've never seen an animal. Several companies keep them for conservation, including that of my grandparents, a national company. My grandmother usually draws some, mainly deer and roe deer. They must be huge, although I don't know exactly how big they are.

 I just imagine.

 I imagine them in freedom, in peace. With the sun hitting their skin, their eyes, and the big stems of the deer. I imagine them running across the grass, or among the big trees in the Bulgarian forest. The strong characteristics, protection and love of the male combine with the gentleness and elegance of the female, which in turn produces life, thus completing their lives to the end. 

 I put my shoes back on because I'm already on a private property and I head for the road. A young woman enters her house, the one that is fixed or even new. The population has increased again in Sokolovtsi, since my grandparents bought it, and remodeled the houses. About 50 people or more are living here. Each has the right to have a farm / territory for their plantations and to seek clean water from the spring, which passes through the entire village. The high mountains protect us from being seen by the soldiers, if any of them pass through here.

 All of Grandma's friends are here. Almost all. Many have already passed away, either by age or by World War 3. My grandparents too. One was Bulgarian, the other Chinese.

 To occupy my time on the road, I start to think about what she said. "The two were so dear. I loved them very much, Yuliya. And they to me. "

 Do not know.

 I don't know what it's like to love a man.

 Nor a father, or mother. 

 But I have my grandmother, and she has told me several times that she loved me. Will it be that on the day I have children, will I know what love is? I only know grandma's love.

 I look back and see the traditional Bulgarian houses, which occupy some spaces of green expanse.