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It had started to snow again by the
following morning. As
I made my way south, I began to wonder whether this visit was such a
good
idea as I would be arriving later than I thought. This
proved to be the case as I finally pulled up before the nursing home
about half past two in the afternoon. I'd had trouble finding it,
even after I was in the small city. My dialect wasn’t so
well-appreciated when I inquired about directions and I soon began to
appreciate the friendliness of
the people in Järna.
Pushing hard on the
door, I entered the small office foyer, bringing
along a dusting of snow and surprising the attending nurse, sitting all
starched in crisp white uniform. She spread her arms over the
papers
on her desk until I got the door frimly closed. She smiled a
greeting
and I
inquired about my cousin Karolina...was she a resident and did I have
the right nursing
home. She said yes and yes, I did.
“Can I see
her...visit, I mean…are visiting hours…over?”
“I must ask my
superior, she said, ”it is rather late..." But she
smiled again before she went into the next room. I heard an older
woman’s voice say: “Karolina…?” in rather a gruff and
surprised tone of voice. Then there was some more discussion and
finally, both women came out.
“You wish to see
Karolina Fröman?”
“Yes, I’m
her…cousin, from America.”
She looked me up
and down as if I might be some sort of nut.
“It is late for
visiting…" to emphasize this a family trooped past,
buttoning coats as they opened the door and dusted us with more snow.
The supervisor
frowned, "...and Karolina…she never has any visitors.
Is she expecting you?” The young nurse, standing behind her,
nodded her head in agreement, smiling sadly. I believe the older
nurse knew
Karolina wasn’t expecting me. I could see this was getting
difficult and I began to wish I hadn’t come. I should have
written…asked my questions and waited.
“No…I’ve only just
come from America…I don’t have much time and I have
no where to stay here in the city…to wait. Couldn’t I just ask
her some
questions...then leave?”
The younger nurse
spoke then: “I can take him down…just for a
minute. She wasn’t in bed yet when I did rounds and…she never
gets
anyone to come to see her. It will be good for her.”
“Thank you,” I
said, smiling at the small encouragement. The
older woman glanced back at her as if she’d created some sort of
capital offense against the house rules.
“Well, if you wish
to,
go ahead. But she may shout at you…be forewarned,” she said and
disappeared back into the other room.
The corridors were
painted a stark white. The floors and walls
were clean but devoid of nearly any ornamentation. After turning
several corners, meeting departing visitors at every turn, my guide
stopped before a half-open doorway at the very end of the
hallway. She gently pushed open the door and walked in. I
waited outside beside the door.
“Karolina…?”
The winter sun was
just setting through the only window in the
room. A shawl-draped figure was slumped in a wheelchair, backed
against a stark white wall, facing the window. The sun’s rays
cast
shadows from the window mullions onto the wall, making it look like the
woman was behind bars.
“Karolina…are you
awake? You have a visitor…someone who has come to see
you…all the way from Amerika. Won’t you speak with him,
Karolina?”
The figure in the
wheelchair stirred and glanced in my direction, holding up one hand to
shield her eyes from the light of the hallway. The nurse snapped
on a table lamp and turned the wheelchair to face me, drawing it away
from the barred wall. She straightened the woman’s shawl and
patted her yellow-gray hair as she bent over.
“Here…” she
indicated I should come into the room, “this is Karolina
Fröman, our resident for many years. Karolina…this
is…this is your American cousin, I believe, come to see you today.”
She smiled
encouragingly and walked past me, pausing in the doorway. “If
you require anything, I will be just around the corner.”
“Thanks,” I said
unbuttoning my jacket.
Karolina still
hadn’t spoken a work; she sat looking at me
curiously. I didn’t know how to begin so finally just plunged in,
speaking the Jäauml; dialect as best I could.
“Karolina…"
“What…?” she said
loudly, holding a hand up to her ear. I stepped
closer, taking off my jacket. The room was warm and I
was beginning to sweat.
“Karolina…my name
is Alex Andersson…and I would like to ask you some
questions about my grandmother Anna-Kristine and her mother Jugas
Brita, who emigrated to Amerika
in…1882…”
I thought she’d
begun weeping; her head was bobbing slightly. I
stepped closer, thinking maybe I'd offended her, but then realized she
was chuckling to herself.
“You…you sound just
like my grandfather. How could someone so
young learn to speak this way?"
"I...my mother
taught me; she learned from...her parents."
"You talk of Jugas
Brita. I have not hear that name for seventy years…who are
you again?”
“I...Jugas Brita
was my grandmother’s mother…from Järna.”
“I know where she came
from…she went to Amerika…all of
them…left...those...free-church people. And never a word did
she write me.”
“Write…you?
You…you knew Jugas-Brita?”
“Oh...I knew her
and cared for the…her child, too, before they went...little
Anna-Kristine, your
grandmother, you say…such a dear one. Did they know she
was oäktabarn, in Amerika?”
“Yes…they knew, in
the community.”
“And how did they
treat her…all those religious…zealots, when they got her to Amerika?”
“They were not very
nice to her…or her mother, I understand.”
She was silent for
a moment and then she suppressed a sob. “I was
afraid of that,” she struggled to pull a handkerchief from the folds of
her skirt. "It was the same here, before they left."
I didn't reply,
waiting for her to say more. There was a slight tremor in her
right hand as she held a handkerchief.
"She promised me
she would write to me." She stared at me for a long
time as if she was gauging my suitability. "What do you
want? You say
you are my cousin? How can that be...I was not related to
Jugas-Brita. Why have you come?"
©
2007 Smultron Publications, All Rights Reserved
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