Recently, I wrote this note.
Child me: Will I be punished for mistakes? Of course I’ll be.
Never thought ahead: … or am I safe just trying my first little steps?
What if these first little steps didn’t matter half as much as I thought?
…
Well, what if…?
Adult me knows: Less than 10% of this effort of overthinking, taken away by an answer not at all punishing, but inviting, might have been enough to fix it.
Might be that I’d have been less picky about things I didn’t know at full detail first.
Might be that “just wing it” would have become my default setting to face everyday’s little hurdles…
Instead I kept tense until it looked like restraint where it was just a habit to avoid a danger which now almost feels like the risk of rain on a sunny day.
A danger of saying a wrong word.
A danger of embarrassment.
A danger of… showing up at all?
Well, what if…?
Let’s imagine.
Vacation in the mountains. Breakfast was finished, but time refused to pass. A valley out of reach under the rainclouds looking like fog made staying inside not only a choice, but the only way to exist, an unwritten constraint that was not ever put into question.
Pastel tablecloths dotted with a few breadcrumbs, footsteps up, arranging ordinary things at fresh air smelling like forest and yesterday’s rain, then toothpaste marks slowly drying in the bathroom before the chambermaid would come and wipe away what we left, tuck the sheets in at edges, fold the pillows.
Feet in slippers or sandals tiptoeing on carpeted staircases, down again. This time though, we were not coming down with empty hands, but carrying some outworn day planner for taking notes and some games we could be playing for hours, only pausing it when it would be time for lunch. No newspapers to read, nothing else to do… Fingers learning something new which felt like a habit before my brain could catch up with anything else that mattered.
Waitress: Everything alright, some coffee, or another lemonade, Miss?
Me, focused on the next chopstick to pick off the heap, shaking head: No.
No, thanks would be too much of talking.
Not needed, so why?
We went on playing.
Sun gently broke through the clouds for a moment,
shedding light on the decoration near the wall,
unseen.
Next stick to pick, jittered.
Oops, your turn now.
Minutes went by.
The music filled the almost empty room
without ever asking why
or what to play.
Local sounds of accordions and brass band music,
interspersed with news reports.
News for us? Not yet.
Did I listen?
Did I understand what it was about?
Not much yet.
Only a bit…
Mountain street was still closed.
The middle of our table got empty.
Time to count the points.
The warm sun dried the last few drops on any surface that mattered.
Birds were chirping, and some guests were sitting outside.
Another turn?
Or what about playing outside a bit?
Look, there’s a swing!
No discussion.
Me then: looked outside the window, amazed, but… me…
I trudged back, having not accomplished anything.
How. Could. I… even try?
What could have happened if picking the right words would not have felt so much harder than picking up chopsticks from a jittering heap?
What could have happened if I had considered that feeling safe after a first tentative step could be a possible outcome at all?
That a conversation involves two sides, us — and them, so if they’re used to talking, it could be a lot easier. That talking can even be fun once we’re in it. That strangers can become familiar enough to be less afraid after a few minutes.
Among all of these what-ifs, what really could have happened is something like this, well, I’ll just add a dash of extra storytelling and vivid imagination to show how even speechless moments and rather ordinary experience would have made me feel inside.
Me like: “Oh… hello…?” Dude: Hello back! grinning Me: face down, embarrassed. I’d like to … may I use the swing just for a little moment? Dude: slips down. Feet on green grass. Of course, … (grabs his chin) What’s your name? Me: Daniela. Dude: Aw, that sounds nice. Tells me his. Me: Hm. ... Nice. How old are you? Dude: Where are you from? Your parents also here? Stupid question I guess, huh?... Me: Berlin. Yes, they’re over there… look, the one in the checkered shirt and the one with… Dude: (squints) I see. B e r l i n! Amazing! West or East? Me: West. Actually quite close to the wall, we even walked over there after it fell. Dude: Oh! … Cool! … Sounds like I could have loved to see it, too! Me: Spring, almost warmer than this morning, up here… Dude: Oh, I don’t feel cold here. — First time in the mountains? Me: Yes, as far as I know, we’ve never been so high. Dude: Awesome, yes! Buuuut… the swing can take you higher still… He pushes the swing just a bit, then lets go, stands next to it. Again. Once again. What could... My feet get higher, it looks as if they’re up in one of those trees, it’s... Dude: Just hold tight, nothing will ever happen… I squint as sunshine lits the background around his hair… then look away… The gravel path near the old fence makes a sound, steps slowly approaching… He puts a hand on the rope to slow down the swing, whistles. Dude: After all, it’s just a swing, not a roller-coaster. Do you know roller-coasters? Me: N-no. Dude: Almost guessed so 😁. Daddy says he... aw, there he is already.
Voice from behind:
Oh, someone else here?
Me: Yes (embarrassed, trying to focus my shoelaces).
Them: holds out his hand to me, I take it before I dare to look up at the one they belong to. Them: Nice. Anyway. We thought it’s a good time to have some ice cream, would you like to have some as well?
I mean, you two, of course.
Me: Oh, sure, I just need to let my parents know first.
Probably, a few questions would have been asked.
About our brothers and sisters, pets, their jobs and my parents’, and what they were about to do next day, where they came from (I suppose, also Germany).
They might have even offered to spend the evening together in the restaurant we’d have to stay anyway.
Some people even do things like these.
Later on, I’ve come across some people who, in a similar situation, did so.
But it always felt hard for me to find comfort in that, at least, not in the first round… with a few exceptions, of course.
And after these few exceptions, it got a lot better, a lot easier to come to a new place.
Another ordinary evening
These were my own ideas, unfolded by likelihood, of course without any AI, but with a little dash of empathy and ideas coming from how I experienced a few similar or different situations, knowing what I know now.
Instead, the day went by without me saying a word to them.
Still, when we paid and went up, I could feel it was somehow special.
Although going out to eat in a restaurant was something I knew from childhood.
Although checking the bill, being able to read, wasn’t special any more.
Although nothing was, actually, or was it?
Something in the air filled the room above my table and around it,
something I couldn’t describe or even grasp…
Something which could have made scenes like these a lot less awkward…
Some silences are not emptiness.
They are forms of attention that learned to survive before they learned to speak.
What moved me here is the way memory keeps returning, not to correct the past, but to imagine the possibility that safety might once have existed inside it too.
The cure to my messy week.