Kiri emale / Letter to Mum

- Tere emake, kuidas läheb?

- Halvasti!

- Kas midagi juhtus?

- Ei.

- Siis on ju hästi!

Nii me räägime päevast päeva.

Mõnikord on mul sulle mõni huvitav uudis, näiteks:

- Emake, tead, su kodutaluni viib nüüd buss

ja seal on teie talu järgi Oti tänav.

Kõrval Tiitsu ja Kadaja.

Teie nurm on täis tehnovõrke

ja tulevikus elab seal rohkem inimesi kui teie külas eales varem.

Aga teie talu ei kao, sest tänav ju jääb!

Siiski ei hooli sa sellest nii palju, sest nüüd on sul uus kodu ja uus pere:

rahutud otsimas rahu,

kannatajad leevenduse ootel,

need, kes mäletavad oma esimesi paremini kui viimaseid.

Oled hooldekodus - kunagises lastesõimes, kus kilkasid lapsed oma esimesi samme tehes.

Nüüd liigud siin sina ratastooliga voodi, söögilaua ja õue vahet.

Või istud sügispäikese kullas, suu kriipsus, silmis kaugete hetkede helk.

Ehkki me ei jaga enam ammu kodu,

käin sul tihti külas ja rändan me ühises ajas,

kus ma hoian kinni su käest ja sa juhid mu samme

ikka veel, emake armas! 

- Hi Mum, how are you doing?

- Very badly!

- Has anything happened?

- Not at all.

- Then it's all right!

That's how we talk day after day.

Every now and then, I have news that could excite you, something like that:

- Mum, you know there's a bus that goes straight to your childhood home.

And there's a road called Oti after your farm.

Next to Tiitsu and Kadaja.

Your meadow is now all covered with supply networks.

And more people will live there than ever lived in your village before.

But your farm won't disappear because the road will remain.

But you hardly care since now you have a new home and a new family:

the restless in search of peace

the troubled, waiting for relief

those who remember their firsts better than their last.

You are in

in the nursing home, a former daycare centre where children once squealed when taking their first steps.

Now, you move there in your wheelchair between the bed, dining table and courtyard.

Or sit in the gold of the autumn sun, lips pursed, eyes shining on distant moments.

Though we no longer share a home,

I often visit you and our times together

where I hold your hand, and you guide my steps

still, my dearest Mum!