Dulce Lacrimae

The sun dazzled the green plane of the small emerald country of Ireland, while the wind making everything dance especially the brown pigtails of a innocent little Aniela running to her father, and pulling him into a hug with a warm smile, until she noticed the casket. Inside this little box placed at the end of the tiny stone church,  Aniela Ostrowska stared down into her mother’s face, eyes closed and sleeping deeply. So this where her mother was when she was gone. The ten year old looked up into her father’s eyes, ocean grey diamonds meeting ocean grey diamonds. Yet his were overflowing with emotional droplets, while he pushed her off and pulled out a tissue.

Aniela looked back at her mother, thinking about how her mother’s eyes were green emeralds, not grey diamonds. The world felt as if it slowly was closing in on her, she suddenly realised she’ll never see the emeralds again. The girl felt empty, her body was hollow. Not a single tear was even created. As if her tear ducts were under construction. Her face expression was as cold and bland as the stone floor of the church they were standing on.

Aniela sat in front of the church on the little grey steps. She held her heart shaped head in one hand while she looked at her father, grieving among their relatives, together standing awkwardly in the not too far away cemetery. Again, Aniela felt empty. She stared at the scene in front of her. Her father holding his long brick like head and bawling his eyes out, while a congregation of “I’m so sorry” surrounded him patting his back. Did they really mean it, is something Aniela would never know. She never seen half of these people herself, but then again she knew well she avoided everyone that smiled like a stewardess when talking to her, it’s so fake it hurts. And people usually presume a child is too stupid to notice. The relatives and friends all comforted him, while he sorrowfully wiped his nose. No one noticed the girl left on the church steps. Except for one.

“Lovely day, would’ve been better if it was less windy” chimed a voice, dragging Aniela back into the sad reality. She looked up to find a man staring back at her. She immediately started judging him, as children do. Black hair slicked back, with the amount of hair gel that would glue a jumbo jet together and it would be safer then ever. This probably explained why his little fedora was sitting on his head without doing the windy Irish dance. The man looked at her with little voids, he overall looked very vague other than his little moustache. He didn’t look old nor young. Mean nor nice. Angry nor patient. He just looked vague.

“Hm. So you say? Or do you disagree?” The man rudely persisted on continuing the conversation.

“I guess”

“You guess?”

“Yes.”

“Well aren’t you talkative” he said, whether he was amused or not, your guess is as best as mine. “And why is a young lady like you sulking at the steps of a church, Hm?”

“My mother died.”

“Why, I’m very sorry.”

Aniela simply shrugs, she doesn’t see why he would be sorry.

The man narrows his eyes and stayed silent for a minute or two, his eyes scanning her like a metal detector.

“I’m Albert Federov” he announced while lending her a hand to shake.

“Aniela Ostrowska” said the girl while politely shaking his hand.

“You are not much of a talker. Are you?”

“Not with strangers.”

“Why, but if you don’t talk to the stranger, they’ll always be a stranger to you.” Aniela didn’t look convinced. People usually told her that strangers mean danger. Federov decided to drop it.

“Where is your father?”

“Over there” the ten year old said while pointing to her father with a whole therapy session around him. Federov slightly frowned but didn’t comment. He gently sat down beside Aniela, a good distance away to respect the little girls privacy.

Silence took place. Aniela looked forward, until her sight met two little crows. The girl looked at them with utmost interest. One slowly made its way to Aniela and the girl gently petted it. Federov noticed this.

“Did you know crows also do funerals for their dead neighbours.” He said profoundly.

“They do?”

“Indeed. But it’s less of sentimental value, but of survival. They try to see the dangers that could have brought the crow to its last destination.”

“What else do they do?”

“Well” Federov smoothed out his award winning moustache. “They can recognise faces, and hold grudges.”

“Oh, like people do.”

“Exactly, but a crow won’t give you the silent treatment.” Federov chuckled poshly, yet Aniela didn’t seem to understand what he meant, and just looked at him blankly.

“People when they hold grudges, tend to ignore the person in question.” He explained.

“Oh, I just thought they’d yell at you”.

“Do you yell at people when you hold a grudge against them?”

“Well, not yell, but I get very angry at them. But I usually forget about it in a day or two.”

“I see.” Federov nodded.

“It’s good to not hold a grudge too long, because people who hold life long grudges, tend to be miserable and unlikeable people. They see every person in the bad light.”

“Do you hold grudges?” Aniela turned her little head to him.

“Well, if they really deserve it.”

Aniela stayed silent for a good while. She considered every word he said, trying to think what possibly could the man mean by deserving it.

“What people do to deserve it?”

Federov looked at the ground, trying to think of the most appropriate response. After a minute or two, he concluded:

“Well, people who don’t feel sorry for the wrongdoing they did.”

“What if it was an accident.”

“If it were truly an accident, they would probably be more appealed to apologise, don’t you think?”

“What does appealed mean?”

“It means that they would be more willing.”

“Ah.” Aniela nodded. She looked back to the crows again. “My mother liked birds.” She looked over to her father and noticed that the grieving ceremony is slowly thinning out.

“It was nice talking to you, Mr Fedrov-“

“Federov”

“Federov, but I have to go. You are really strange.” Aniela got up. “Can we be friends?”

Federov chuckled “Sure, why not?”

And with that, Aniela trotted her way to her father, leaving Federov on his own on the stairs.