My neighbor had wanted to go shopping but had no desire to take along her lively five- year-old son, Finn. So she asked around the neighborhood to see who might watch him for an hour. Anemone, already overwhelmed with her three sons, declined. But Heike, at home with her newborn twins and her own five-year-old, Tom, agreed—though with one condition: “I can’t keep an eye on Tom and Finn outdoors.” “But we’re big now!” the two best friends cried proudly. “We’re going sledding at the hill!” Incredibly, snow had fallen again in mid-April. A heavy, wet blanket that set children’s hearts racing with joy, while adults only sighed at the slush-filled streets and poor visibility. The sledding hill lay tucked away behind the playground in our little village, and children often played there unsupervised. Here, everyone knew everyone, and people looked out for one another. It was there, however, that the unthinkable happened—an accident no one would ever truly comprehend. Finn and Tom had been sledding, and then turned to building a snowman. How it unfolded, no one could later say. At some point Finn noticed Tom lying in the field. At first, he thought his friend was simply resting. But when he came closer, he found Tom pinned beneath a great snowball, struggling for breath. Finn tried desperately to free him, but the snow was too heavy. In the end, he ran for help. Yet by the time his small legs carried him up the hill and into his mother’s arms, precious minutes had slipped away—too many for Tom to be saved. Eva and the summoned paramedics did everything they could to bring him back. But the crushing weight of the snow had pressed the air from his lungs, and he had suffocated on his own vomit. A tragedy—a senseless, unforeseeable misfortune no one could have imagined. How could such a thing happen? The heavy fog of guilt spread through the village, sparing no one. Als er sich an die versammelten Gäste wenden wollte, versagte ihm die Stimme. Es lag an dem missbilligenden Blick seines Vaters, der auf ihm ruhte. Kalt und streng, so wie er ihn immer erlebt hatte. Er spürte, wie er rot wurde, ohne dass er irgendetwas dagegen tun konnte. Verdammt, genau das hatte nicht passieren sollen. Ihn streifte der mitfühlende Blick von Katharina. Sie wusste, was in ihm vorging. Wie oft hatten sie Nächte lang über seinen Vater und ihn gesprochen. Und obwohl es sein 55. Geburtstag war, hatte dieser entwertend-feindselige Blick seines Vaters noch immer diese vernichtende Wirkung. „ Du bist und warst schon immer eine Enttäuschung für mich !“, sagte dieser Blick. „ Du wirst mir niemals das Wasser reichen können !“ Und noch schlimmer, „ warum ist deine begabte wunderbare Schwester gestorben und nicht du an ihrer Stelle ?“. Er schüttelte sich innerlich, versuchte sich zu sammeln und räusperte sich, wie um Mut für einen neuen Anfang zu finden. Hier im Kreise seiner Freunde, seiner Frau, seiner
104
Made with FlippingBook Annual report maker