Birthdays

Our class was not very large, there were almost equal numbers of boys and girls. But we always celebrated our birthdays and went to one another's homes.

Valve's birthdays were wonderful. Her mother had prepared all sorts of good things for us, and it was always cheerful there. Valve's older brother dressed himself as a clown and played a Hawaiian guitar. The only sad thing when a birthday ended was knowing that such a merry day came only once a year.

But one of her birthdays really frightened us. Her birthday was at the beginning of April. At that time of year the water had already eaten holes into the river ice. On the way there we went through Jändja, which meant a detour of about six kilometres. On the way back the boys said, 'No more going around — straight across!'

And they did come to help us across the river, where dark holes of open water showed in the ice. Holding our breath, we nevertheless reached the other bank safely. That time we were truly lucky not to end up bathing among pieces of ice in the cold spring water.

We also went to our classmate Evi's birthday. She came from a well-off family. Her mother worked at the dairy and also kept a shop. During the long school break, when we unwrapped our sandwiches and Evi rustled her bread out of parchment paper, the delicious smell of Krakow sausage spread through the classroom. The rest of us certainly did not have anything like that. Her mother was a handsome, stout lady. I remember how, at her daughter's birthday, she pulled open drawers and lifted out handfuls of sweets for us.

Now that little schoolgirl is celebrating her seventy-fifth birthday, and all those beautiful moments of childhood belong to the distant past.