- Tere emake, kuidas läheb?
- Halvasti!
- Kas midagi juhtus?
- Ei.
- Siis on ju hästi!
Nii me räägime päevast päeva.
Mõnikord on mul sulle 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 igasuguseid võrke
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 sul on nüüd uus kodu ja pere:
rahutud teel rahuni,
kannatajad leevenduse ootel,
need, kes mäletavad oma esimesi paremini kui viimaseid.
Oled hooldekodus - endises lastesõimes, kus kilkasid lapsed esimesi samme tehes.
Nüüd liigud siin sina ratastooliga voodi, söögilaua ja õue vahet.
Või istud sügispäikese kullas, silmis kaugete hetkede helk.
Ehkki me ei jaga enam ammu kodu,
käin tihti su juures ja rändan me ühises ajas,
kus hoian kinni su käest ja sa juhid mu samme
ikka veel, emake armas!
- Hi Mum, how are you doing?
- Very bad.
- Has anything happened?
- Not at all.
- Then it's all right!
That's how our conversations go, day after day.
Sometimes I bring news that might matter, 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 covered with cables and networks
and more people will live there than ever lived in your village before.
But your farm won't disappear — the road will remind it.
But you don't care.
You have a new home now, a new family:
the restless on their way to peace
the afflicted waiting for relief
those who remember their firsts better than their lasts.
You are in the nursing home — once a daycare centre where children squealed taking their first steps.
Now you move through its rooms in your wheelchair, from bed to dining room to courtyard.
Or sit in the gold of the autumn sun, eyes shining towards distant moments.
Though we no longer share a home,
I often visit you and in those quiet times together
I hold your hand, and you guide my steps
still, Mum!
