Tenderness by Vira Niemkova

I wake up with the sound

of something tiny hitting my window, with the sunbeams, warmly golden, softly flooding the room. It takes me a couple of slightly painful moments to stand up and look. (Yes. At this point, my joints need some time to warm up! Is there something wrong with that?). And when I finally reach the windowsill, I see nothing even slightly suspicious—only a single chestnut, stuck from the outside. Suddenly, I know that it is waiting for me. So I open the window to feel its cool glossy surface in my hands. And I remember everything…   This type of tenderness, only Octobers can give.  

Yes, it’s shockingly awkward, I know. An old woman talking about love. But I’ve lived enough to stop thinking about the opinions of others. Well, at least in this aspect, I guess. 

Victor used to call me his chestnut princess, as I once became the "fastest chestnut gatherer - 1975". Bear in mind that my only competitors were him and a local squirrel. An unforgettable battle! Gathering chestnuts in an autumn park was our (mine and Victor’s) annual tradition. As a kid, my grandson adored this activity too. Now he seems too cool for things like that. But it’s in our blood, for sure.

I never really talk to him about it. Teenagers usually don’t like these types of conversations. Especially with grannies! But I truly hope that loving deeply is in our blood as well. I hope one day he’ll find somebody. I hope he’ll know what it’s like.

 I did. And I still do… 50 years later, I still am the chestnut princess.