Ms Haude
A voice whispered into my left ear: Get up now the coast is clear.

It was almost three O’clock in the morning and I felt sleepy. Those days I went to bed very late but woke up after three hours. My sleep was often interrupted and my mind never stopped thinking. I woke up for an hour, slept an hour and then woke up again. It is really odd, whenever I know I can have a lie-in in the morning I get up early but just tell me I have to get up early the next day, I feel as if I am nailed down to my bed and can’t get up forever. Anyway it was my own decision and I got up quietly, put on my old suit and shoes. I had already packed a few things in my shoulder bag. I quietly turned the key in the door for I didn’t want to say good bye. I didn’t want to leave a message either. I just put the keys in an envelope and let it fall quietly in the letterbox. It must have rained after midnight for the street was wet. The street lamp light dazzled my eyes when I walked towards it.

While I was walking, my mind left me no peace. It drove me up the wall with questions like: What would they say when they get up? Where do you want to go? How would you survive? I had made no preparations and I had no idea where to go but I couldn’t stay any longer and I didn’t care what would happen. I never thought of any safety net; I just knew I had to go. I walked and the longer I walked, the more desperate I was. Then I thought I would go back and say I just needed some fresh air and didn’t want to take the keys with me for I often lost my house keys. No, I knew I couldn’t do that. Besides, I would look ridiculous. I was now mentally and emotionally willing to venture to anywhere. I bought a ticket. The train was scheduled to leave at five and I went to have a coffee and a pretzel stick. I loved the bitter taste of coffee and the salty taste of pretzels.

A very old train finally arrived. It was almost empty and I sat in a compartment alone. Travelling by such trains was called milk run for they stopped at every whistle collecting the scallywags, the last drunks still out and about or the last train to pick up any night owls. I don’t know how long the train went when an old lady appeared in my compartment and asked: excuse me, is this seat taken? I was surprised for the train was still empty and she could have sat anywhere else. I said of course not, welcome. She must have been at least seventy or even eighty, a petite blonde. I liked her face and her petite clothing. She had straight, thick short hair, neatly dressed. Two little curious eyes fixed me. After some time she said quietly: I have a terrible headache. I often have a headache. I didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or to me but I said: I am sorry to hear that, shall I let in some fresh air. No, thanks, she said, it is cold.

After a while she went on: You look like a lost son. I am of Dutch origin and have a son myself but he only visits me once a year on the first Christmas day for two or three hours. My husband was a medical doctor and I helped him in his office. I was sixty when we got divorced and I finally started my own medical studies. I had another son from my first husband. He was three years old when one day my husband disappeared with him. Later I heard of his death but there was no trace of my son. Where are you going? I said: Oh I don’t really know I just thought I will go till the end and then I will see. She said: I will get off at the stop before the last. It is a small town and I have an old house in the old part of the city. I need your help with my suitcase. Why don’t you come with me and continue your journey later. As I said I liked the old lady so I gave my consent.

Her old house looked just as neat . There was a nice garden too. She said: make yourself comfortable in the living room I’ll make some tea. The room was nearly empty. There were two armchairs and two beautiful milk glass lamps only. One was big and the other was small. Then she came in with the tea and said: I saw you looking at the two lamps. I would like to give them to you as a present. She kept a straight face and continued: I bought them when my first son was three years old and on the day before he disappeared. I am going back to Holland and might not come back here again. My son would sell the house and the furniture then. What do you think? The lamps will remind you of an old lady you met on a train in the early hours of a morning. I said I would love to but I don’t know where to. She said: I will leave them with the neighbors for you and you can pick them up any time you want. This is their phone number. I thanked her and left. Now it is 10 years later and the two lamps are in my study. I don’t know what has become of her but I think she went to die at home. Goodbye Mother, I will never forget you.

PS: This text is dedicated to Dr. Ine Haude-Koster who used to live in the old part of the city in Bonn.