Chapter 1
Spring was Lora’s favorite season. She always looked forward to the time when everything would finally come to life and bloom. Watching the snow melt and the lilies of the valley appear was an unbelievable pleasure for the girl. Flora and her parents were living in Southeast Europe, visiting the only grandmother in the family time by time. The grandmother lived further in the north of the country, she was born and raised there and never had even the slightest idea of leaving. Her house was fully decorated with pinkish furniture and wood. The chandelier, which was decorated with tiny but at the same time very visible diamonds, was set in the center of the living room. Because the chandelier was almost transparent, you could see the dust very well, but that just proved how much this house has been through. Everything else Lora never set her eye on. Family albums, the first toys of newborns, an old wooden rocking chair, and everything else were always typical of her concept. She saw them so many times that she even forgot about their existence. But the chandelier, the only glass-made chandelier she saw in her life, was always reminding her about itself. During the sunny days, it was always flickering and playing with the rays of the sun. During storms and even the slightest earthquakes, it looked like it was going to shatter and all the diamonds were going to fall to the ground.
Lora and her parents visited this house sometimes in the winter but always in the spring. There were a lot of duties in May, so Flora’s family always wrote down a couple of free days on the list of important family events months in advance. This time, sitting in a terrace chair, enjoying the fresh spring air, Lora was drinking her early coffee, which was always too hot for her. But sip by sip, she finished it without any hurries.
“Enjoying the fresh spring air?” asked an old woman dressed in a long dress that covered all her body from her chest to her feet.
“Yeah, I need some before going back to the urban atmosphere,” Lora answered, even though she perfectly knew that the lilac bushes that grew all over grandmother’s garden interrupted the clean air with their scents. Her mother always got dizzy because of it, which is why if she came, she spent most of her time sitting inside the house.
It is customary to give a bouquet of lilacs only once, as it symbolizes the first love. The first, which means unlike anything else, unique and one and only. It was a bouquet of these flowers, that Lora’s grandfather gave to her grandmother on their first date. They hadn’t known each other before that meeting, but they fell head over heels in love. And her grandmother persuaded her husband to plant the whole area with bushes of these flowers. Lora’s grandfather always complained about the annoying smell of the overabundance of lilac flowers, yet he never made his wife dig them out.
Grandmother slowly walked up to the girl and patted her on the shoulder, which was always surprisingly cold. Lora felt dizzy. Blaming in her mind the lily bush, she stood up, holding in her hand a tiny porcelain mug.
“Is everything all right, dear?” an old lady asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Everything is fine; it is just the lack of sleep and overexertion. The finals are coming, so the energy battery is getting low.” But the advice to sleep more and think less about studying elicited the expected response. Lora went back inside, trying to recover, but it was not so simple for her. Fresh toasts, black coffee, and strawberry jam were served for breakfast. Lora’s father was eating his meal while trying to fill out his crossword.
“What a beautiful day,” with joy and enthusiasm, the mother declared, “so sad that we’re leaving today. I would love to stay for another week.” These words were predictable since Lora’s mother told them all the time before they would leave, since she didn’t want to offend her own mother.
Everyone was busy doing their own thing. Her father was already being done with his crossword, Lora’s mother was already finishing her coffee, her grandmother was knitting, and the girl herself was sitting and writing something in her journal. The thin, kraft pages were filled with dozens of lines of precisely spelled letters. It was possible to see how the girl’s handwriting changed over the years, at first there were only faintly clear letters that lived on their own, and then, after a while, they began to be joined by a smooth line, adding various beautiful covenants at moments.
A couple of years later, Lora had already graduated from high school and was already finishing university. She had moved to another country and decided to visit her native place before her last, final exams. Her parents divorced and separated, their conflict let them forget about their daughter, but the girl herself did not try to communicate with them, as she did not want to be disappointed before an important event.
She was already on her way to the grandmother’s house. Looking out the window, she saw forests and fields where animals were already grazing and people were working all day long. The air seemed so clean, fresh, and slightly cool. Although she could not feel it, she imagined the sensation of it through the thin glass. It was May, her favorite month of the year. The month that brings memories and warmth. Lora sat in her seat, noticing that there weren’t any other people on the bus besides her and the driver. Feeling like you are special or the star of a movie goes along with some kind of worry. She was already dreaming of that smell of lilacs that she missed so much. Where she now lives, it doesn’t grow at all, so that familiar smell gives her a chance to forget itself. Not many people pay attention to the fact that everyone has a favorite scent that carries hundreds of different associations and memories, both negative and positive. Some are inspired by the smell of rain or the smell of freshly made coffee, but Lora’s was the smell of lilacs. She had always been sure that her grandmother’s lilacs—the lilacs in the village—smelled somehow different. Though they were different only in their intensity.
When she got off the bus, she walked toward the familiar house, remembering that behind those huge trees would be her destination. Along the way, she saw various people who were unfamiliar to her since, as a child, she had not taken much interest in her grandmother’s neighbors. Surprisingly, all of them were frightened and somehow tense. Already a real young woman, she walked with a smile toward the house, reaching the last few meters. In front of her were only the trees that covered the house; she only had to go around them, and that was it; she was there.
The young brunette stood silent, tear after tear flowing from her green eyes, and her hand that held the bag dropped it on the seemingly warm but at the same time so cold ground. She stood alone, completely alone, in front of a very large, deserted black field. The ground was covered with ash, leaving behind an unpleasant smell, though it was clear from the sight that it had been there for the past month or two. Lora collapsed to the ground, soaking her light, new pants, which she had bought only the previous week. She sat on her knees in the middle of nothing. She didn’t understand how such a worthwhile place had lost its meaning in the world. How it was even possible that it might someday be gone, that it would be torn down, dismantled, or that it would burn down. The girl’s eyes could see the silhouettes of something already extinct, a double-floor house with a dark red roof (though it was originally meant to be pink), terraced furniture that stood all over the territory, because you never know where or when you might want to take a nap, marble figures of various animals, and bushes of her and her grandmother’s favorite flowers. There was no one in front or behind. It even seemed as if the whole village behind her had died suddenly. There were no people, no animals, no tractors or cars—nothing. Lora walked over the burned ground. She knew it was the end; she had no one now, absolutely no one. All her family had left her, leaving her alone in such a huge, cruel world. She has no family or friends, and it seems she doesn’t even have herself. The sense of studying, working, and living if you are waiting every year, every day, for the moment when you can come to that place, your native place, and now that place is gone. The notion of its existence will soon be unknown, because Lora’s children or grandchildren will not know about the place where she spent her teenage years, the first time she planted lilacs, met her first childhood love, the first time she tried homemade jam, and many other nice and little things.
She realized it was time to leave and slowly began to say goodbye to a place that was both empty and meaningful at the same time. As she was about to leave the property, she stumbled over something small and very sharp. Lora lowered her gaze to the cold ground and saw something slightly shiny, thereby catching her eye. She saw a small diamond, the same one that adorned her grandmother’s chandelier. She would recognize it from many, since it had adorned Lora’s home for many years. The girl took it in her hand, frayed it slightly, and placed it in the pocket of her jacket with a smile.
