I’ve beaten that mountain. It was a steep one. 600 rough meteres uphill. But I did it. I cried at the end but I managed. Beata said that it was going to be the toughest one that day. Which felt actually good at that moment, becasue it was only the beginning of the day. And I didn’t really feel like having the energy to ride any more such steep uphills. I sat down in front of the church monitored by the company called “Cerberus”, took my notebook and started writing. An hour back, at the moment when I got that message, I already knew that the story had just happened to have the beginning and the end. I just had to sit and write it down.
Ania used to be my high school friend. It was a good and deep friendship, altgouh it didn’t look like this at the beginning. A friendship during which Ania was saving my life while my first hangover and I was explaining her math complexities before the tests. A friendship during which we were driving a car there and back across our village – because it was the best (and only) entertainment available (you could eventually also “polish the pavement” meaning walk the village there and back – what we also used to do when there was no car available). We knew about each other’s happy and less happy love stories. We even happened to visit together a disco once in a while. A friendship like that, you know.
At certain point our paths divergeed. Ania left to the UK, I left to Krakow. After she came back to the country some time later she first setteled in Gdansk, then – eventually – back in our village. At that point we happened to meet each other at the cementary during Holy Saints Day in November. Nothing wrong, we just somehow didn’t really have anything to talk about (you know, so many years passed..) or maybe we even didn’t really want to talk anymore (you know, so many years..). Every time I saw her she had different hair color, but the haircut always remained the same. And her smile remained the same as well. I knew that smile.
In August this year I came to my village for a bit longer, to spend there one month. A month with my family – that was a plan.
We met each other already few days after I arrived – she came, picked me up and took me to the lake – a place I’ve never been before but looked like the one to go to right now. To talk. We’ve spent long hours at the pier together telling each other stories of the whole unseen life. She was smoking cigarretes, I was drinking coke. The sun was slowly getting down.
“You probably already know that I’m getting divorced?” – she asked glancing at me. “Well, everybody knows already” – she answered herself.
How could I know? I haven’t been at the village for years. I happened to visit for a weekend from time to time, but only to see my parents. I knew nothing, especially no gossips.
She told me the story of her marriage, I told her the story of my finished-not-that-long-time-ago-relationship. Surprisingly,we discovered so many similarities! A lot of laughs, a lot of tears.
I told her how I decided to quit job to fulfil my dream about traveling and even though I was very very scared (and still am), I decided to try. And so I asked her to help me with my project. She became a terrace’s piece of furniture – a place that became my new designed office: a table, two chairs, a lot of grass and a lot of space. We’ve sit through many hours over there, Ania did different reseaches for me, sent some e-mails, made several phone calls. She was getting more and more involved in my project and I could see how happy she was about our progress and little successes every single day. I was happy about seeing her every single day.
When I picked up Peggy from the workshop, we even went for a bike trip together, to visit my granny. Only the told me then about her biggest dream. I answered that I believe that dreams are to make them true (knowing – too well – that it’s much easier to say than do).
A week after I arrived to Warsaw when I was visitting Iza to borrow a dress from her, I got a message from Ania: “I’m signing for a truck driving license course tomorrow. Becasue dreams are to make them ture”. I jumped up of happiness almost hitting the ceiling, and told the whole story to Iza. Iza jumped up almost hitting the ceiling as well.
A week later, that day when writing the story, I received such a message: “Hugs from the road”, attached to the picture on the right.
Ania, I’m so so so proud of you! And you even don’t know how happy I am about having you back in my life! ❤
Krakow, 26 September 2015 (written in Biskupiec on 19 September 2015)