The last dragonfly

Soon the colours will be here… but I’m sending you some late summer pictures from last weekend. I just have to.

We went back to our summer house for two days  to visit an old friend. He now had to sell his house because he is too old and weak to keep it up.  No relatives at all to take care of it – or him. This kind man has been here, walking our grounds, and often offering ice creams and his selfmade cakes, ever since I first came here in 1975. He’s seen our children grow up and he’s been more or less an institution here. No summer without Torsten.

This summer he did not show up. We had seen it coming, but no one wants a summer to be the very last one. His sister, Elisabeth, who is old and fragile too, told us he couldn’t manage visitors…he was too ill to leave his bed. We offered him a car ride to come out to us, but no.

And I walked where he used to walk, and I saw the lonely houses and the last, fragile flowers.

I walked by the sea and went to see my other old friends…the dogs and the horses…

Through the woods back home again…in thoughts.

…and then the dragonflies came. We watched them together, Totti and me.

Crouching, keeping their slender bodies close to the warm stones,  catching the last warming rays of the setting sun. And their wings shone like golden gems.

 

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When the thin rays no longer could reach us, we passed the gate to go down to the shore, Totti and I. He knows me so well. And I’m so grateful to have known you, Torsten.