Morning in the village

Despite the last night’s unsettling experience for the boy, the following day began with a whimsical touch. The sun’s rays gently caressed his eyelids, patiently untangling his sleepy-seeds entwined lashes, with meticulous care characteristic of villagers. In the early morning, the sun found its way through the branches of the nearby pear tree, casting dappled light on the ground and filling the air with a sense of awakening. The smell of dew from the night before drifted in through the open window of the guest room on the second floor, bringing with it the freshness of the countryside. Downstairs in the kitchen, the heavy footsteps of the early riser echoed, signaling the start of a new day in this serene rural setting, where time seemed to slow down to fully appreciate the beauty of each passing moment. The aroma of freshly baked bread and the sound of apple peel falling onto a metal plate roused the boy. How could I have forgotten, the boy thought, as memories of his childhood rushed in; the uncle always peeled apples.The father still slumbered deeply, and it seemed he wouldn’t stir anytime soon. Finally, he’s truly resting, the boy knew it by his father’s stillness, though an insect – perhaps a large fly – struggled to escape the web of his beard. The boy left the room on tiptoes, determined not to disturb his father’s tranquility. In the ground-floor kitchen, an old copper kettle crackled on the wood-burning stove. Warm milk. “Just in time,” the uncle said, setting a piece of bread before him, alongside salted tomatoes, a scallion, a boiled egg, and a cup of milk. “All fresh and natural. Harvested this morning from the earth. Not like your urban poisons. Come on, dig in.”

“Thank you, uncle,” the still-sleepy boy said, yearning for some quiet, but the uncle paid no heed.

“A long day ahead. You’ll see how I tend to the vineyard, and you’ll take care of the horses…” The uncle continued to chatter, but the boy barely registered the words, simply nodding his head in response. All he could think was that there must be truth in everything the uncle said about the food, as he hadn’t savored every morsel like this in a long while. And now, he realized, he missed biting full-sized scallions without cutting them beforehand. Nothing stops him from doing so in the city, but somehow… it feels wrong. Finally, with his plate emptied, he still had enough bread for two more bites. After brief contemplation and hesitation, he mumbled:

“Uncle, do you still have some kajmak?” Before he knew it, a full bowl of kajmak and another piece of still-warm bread were placed before him.

“Dig in.”