We grew up in a land where the sun never sets. The Mother Earth fed us generously. Wild strawberries, blueberries and blackberries fruited every night in the nearby forests. Rivers and streams were abundant in numerous fish species that voluntarily plunged into our nets. Loaves of bread and jars full of the sweetest milk and honey hung on the trees. We played together with bees, cows, sheep and goats in the flowery meadows that never withered. We used to put twigs back on branches to not let trees miss their children.
No one knew what the violence is. Blood was only a sing of falling down while racing against a rabbit.
Winters we used to spend in mountains, throwing snowballs at each other and sliding down the slopes on the old table tops. Everything was covered by snow but the temperature didn’t change comparing to summer. It was always the nice and warm weather.
The life was going by on dancing and singing.
Then the others came, invaders from behind the mountains. They were throwing stones at us, laughing and smirking. We didn’t understand motives of such a behavior and why it was so unpleasant when someone was hit by them. We discovered that, apart from laughter and looking at the sun, there was also another reason of tears coming to our eyes… pain
However we still spent days outside homes.
Only fruit stopped growing so fast and honey became less sweet…
After few years, according to a strange tradition, we had to leave our carefree land and begin a journey to, as older people used to say, gain some experiences essential in the future life. My peers packed the most important stuff and some food into their bundles so I did.
At the end of the summer our adventure started.
Younger friends had to stay at their homes. Only our eagles were delivering them information from us. We knew sometime they would join the rest of the team. Until that moment they could still cherish the idyllic life.
While marching through unknown lands we met different people. The majority was amicably waving their hands, sometimes even joining our team. However some of them didn’t want to stop disturbing our peaceful lives.
Eventually we learnt how to deal with those invaders, buying shields to defend against their attacks. Moreover the conscious of being a group increased our courage and bravery. We never used the violence although the swords in smithies tempted by their shade.
Unfortunately the new enemies appeared. Outside they were beautiful, reaching out to us. We shared food and beverages with them, chatting together in the glitter of a fire.
But one night they begrudged us, sneaked in our tents, piercing our bodies with spears.
The blood was gushing everywhere.
However, they meant to hurt, not to kill. Apparently the spearheads were soaked up poison because injuries healed very slowly.
Growing up, a long journey or something else happened? I don’t know but we started to have those strange but also nice feelings. Holding each other hands already meant more...