Les grandes vacances
For a child, two months is an eternity.
An eternity of watching the shape of clouds change: the ground sinks into my back, bugs tickle my arms and the afternoon stretches out. Look, here is a dolphin, here is a dragon. Here is a dog, which turns into a horse, which gallops across the sky.
An eternity of scraping our knees against the cedar tree: our older cousin once climbed to the very top. There must be a way. This branch or that one? We try over again, then forget it, just hang like bats and watch the world upside down.
It’s naptime: an eternity of whispered giggles in the cool shade of the house. Through the cracks of the shutters, the sunrays glow like pixy dust.
An eternity of peach juice running down my chin, eventually washed off by the cold, cold spray of the garden hose. Muddy feet and happy shrieks…
Even the occasional rainy day lasts an eternity. My finger erases the mist of my breath on the window as I follow the unpredictable path of a raindrop. I make a game of guessing which one will reach the ledge first. It will be the winning drop. On the old piano, someone stumbles their way across Chopin's waltzes, mysteriously in tune with the sudden cracks of wood in the chimney and the continuous hush of rain.
When the sun comes back, there is a pile of passed-down plastic boots. Everyone is sure to find a pair that fits. Off we go: an eternity of poking sticks in the rainbow of puddles.
Then, one day, the grown-ups start packing frantically. Suddenly, time speeds up. I’m strapped in the back of the car. The engine is revving. My grandmother is shoving one more box of cookies through the rolled-down window. My mum is checking one last time upstairs for a forgotten sweater. Kisses. Hugs. See you next year. My grandfather is holding his largest white handkerchief. He'll wave good-bye in the distance until the car turns the bend of the road.
On the back seat, I stay quiet, trying to leave the stillness undisturbed. Just yesterday, I thought summer would never end.
* French born, English writing Ariane
Synovitz who now lives in the Czech Republic.