𝐖𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐧 || COUNTRYHUMANS

.04

      [𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐃 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟕]

It would not be until Christmas of that same year that I would get to see my parents again, not until after five long months had drawn themselves on. I had begun to grow rather restless by then, unaccustomed to being away from home for so long, and there was often times when I would ask Aunt Liechtenstein if she would help me write a letter home to my Mother and Father. And, even though as a child I could only manage to spell out and convey my feelings in the most basic of words, I think those simple "Ich liebe dich, Ich vermisse dich"s were more than enough to shatter my poor Mother's heart.

So, when the winter holidays rolled around and Liechtenstein cheerfully sat me down at the breakfast table one cold November morning to tell Weimar and I that our families would be coming to visit that Christmas, I was more than overjoyed. I spent nearly every day that November and December counting down the days until they would arrive, and when the time finally came I could not seem to sit still on the long ride to Bern where I would see my Mother and Father and Aunt and Uncle. 

The train station at Bern was overwhelmed with crowds of small families just like us waiting eagerly to greet relatives traveling from distant places. The snow came tumbling down in little white specks that collected on the ground and train tracks just outside the covered boarding station, and at least twice I was scolded by Liechtenstein for hanging onto the posts and leaning out from under the roof covering to try to collect a few tiny snowflakes on my tongue.

At one point or another she must have gotten tired of chasing me down and dragging me back away from the tracks for she simply sighed an exasperated huff and handed me off to Switzerland to be entertained by him. He kept me picked up and held in his arms, which- combined with the cold and my mounting impatience- put me immediately into a bad mood. It must have been obvious I was on the verge of throwing a tantrum for Weimar quickly swooped in insisting that he would take me out of the boarding station to play in the snow a bit.

Liechtenstein was reluctant of course, but let us go as long as we promised to stay within where she could see us. I eagerly agreed to the terms and Weimar insisted we would be safe and he would keep an eye on me before taking me by the hand and letting me drag him down the steps of the train station and off over to where the snow had collected in a small pile.

As soon as I laid my eyes upon the fluffy welcoming pile of snow, I could not longer resist the temptation. I broke my arm suddenly from Weimar's grip before running at full force and throwing myself into the little snow bank. I laid face first in what was supposed to be the soft fluffy pile and was met with a rude awakening when my nose smashed upon the deceptively hidden ice and began to bleed.

Immediately, I began crying and screaming.

The blood dripped down my nose,
splotching the snow an ugly red as my face felt ablaze with an icy pain. My cheeks stung from the chilled air and my tears seemed to freeze against my cold face as I cried louder. Weimar ran to my side to try to comfort me, but it seemed like no use, for no amount of  "It's ok, It's ok Österreich, it's only going to sting for a second or two"  could make my bloody nose and burning face feel any better.

Many of the parents gave us skeptical looks as I wailed in the snow until my nose had long since stopped bleeding and the pain had long since disappeared, numbed out by the ice and cold. Weimar awkwardly tried to make me feel any better, but there is only so much a little ten year old knows how to do, and for Weimar at least one of those things was not talking a four year old down from his first bloody nose.

And, unfortunately for Weimar, the most rational thing I could think to do at the time was completely throw myself down in the snow bank and refuse to move or go back to Liechtenstein and Switzerland. If you were curious, I was not- as a child- praised very often for my maturity and problem solving skills. Though, I would receive a good lesson in it when my Mother arrived just half an hour later already exhausted and frustrated from the long trip and (though I didn't know it then) the state of the war, and wanting nothing more than to just see and hug her child who she has been separated from for so long... and then finding that same child laying face down in the snow screaming about ice.