Finally, the tractor with the furniture truck drove up. There was not too much to pack. Mother and Hannchen climbed into the front of the trailer’s glass pulpit with a furniture carrier.
Father and I took a seat on the transverse sofa just behind the door in the dark storage space. For ventilation, we could occasionally open the door a crack from the inside and see the road gliding along below us. The tractor started moving and jerked at walking pace up the village hill. No one stood guard, no one clapped.
Relieved after all the exertions, father stuffed his beloved pipe, lit it, and opened the door a crack. I could not believe my eyes: Susi was rushing after the furniture truck! Tears welled up in my eyes. The truck had climbed the hill and was picking up speed. The dog could no longer follow. Exhausted, she stopped. Soon I could no longer see her with my tear-blurred eyes.
Father’s eyes were also moist. I was sure it was not from the smoke of his shag pipe. To this day, I wonder how the dog had sensed the departure. Was it only animal instinct or is there also a kindred spirit between man and animal?
It seemed as if time had passed the town and the settlement without a trace. The bomb holes had been removed. One had to look very closely to see the slight difference in color on the beige facades of the rebuilt houses.
In the large sandbox played unsuspecting children who knew nothing of the terrible events of seven years ago. In the new apartment everything was as if we had never been away.
The kitchen with the big window, the pantry, the gas stove, and the sink with a faucet that our grandma was so enthusiastic about during her visits. The luxury toilet with the large, enameled tub and the gleaming white toilet bowl that Grandpa didn’t want to use. The view out the window offered a familiar picture: the chestnut tree in front of the house had green leaves again.
Car traffic rolled through the two-lane tunnel of red bricks. In its niches, my little sister and I had found shelter from the second wave of bombers. The high multi-track railroad embankment somewhat blocked the view of the venerable thousand-year-old cathedral city.
Everything was as it had been then, only the Russian prisoners of war and the brutal guard had disappeared, but not forgotten, because the experiences of the past are the building blocks for the future. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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