It was one of those days when I couldn’t cope with life. This is not unusual any more. Not at all remarkable. It happens to me, sometimes. But this time I had a reason. Even one that others would accept that you can’t get on with life. At least as long as the others are not one of the strictest, who have such a well-intentioned and unnecessary “pull yourself together” in their standard repertoire and who cheer anyone who wants to hear it. Even those who don’t want to hear it. But my reason was damn good. I saw my marriage go down the drain, and just as it is impossible to make the water suddenly flow uphill, so it was impossible to reverse it again. Or is it? Had I really tried everything?
On a day like that, I left everything standing and lying because it would have stood and still lay, even if I had decided to stay. That’s why I went. Somewhere, the one my feet took me to. I only saw the ground under my feet. There were the tiles. The door closed. Concrete that slowly turned into gravel. The forest floor followed the gravel. I kept walking, my gaze fixed on my feet, when a crack made me look up. Not because I made up my mind. It happened automatically because I wanted to find the source of the noise. Maybe I was in danger. There are also dangers in our forests. Sometimes. Then I discovered her. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten … fifteen, yes fifteen wild boars. A whole gang. Coming from the right, they trotted across the path I was following. Close enough that I could see her, and probably me, too, but at the same time with such a distance that we didn’t need to be suspicious. You don’t and I don’t. They looked up briefly as they passed. Examined me and probably found that it was neither necessary to run away nor to attack me.
My first impulse was to move away as inconspicuously as possible. After all, they were wild boars, boars and brooks and freshlings. Wild pigs. They don’t have the name for nothing. But instead of following this impulse, I sat down. Individuals began to emerge from a mass of nameless, uniform wild boars. Boars with imposing tusks placed at the edge of the group, ready to defend at any time. Calm, sedate gentlemen, but also someone who had just outgrown puberty and was trotting restlessly back and forth. Bach, who were always very close to their babies. Freshmen, with the significant streaks romping around. Family. A big family. Wild boars. Again and again the little ones sniffed in my direction, probably also took a few steps towards me. Then they turned back as if to get the mother’s consent, which they did not get.
“That’s only a human. It’s not interesting,” the mother seemed to want to say. The little ones let it be. They raged. Played. Teased each other because they felt safe. Next to mom. The grandma. The siblings.
“Like human children”, it shot through my head, “A family, a large, normal family. What’s the difference except in appearance. You want to live. Like me. You are looking for security and a home. Like me.“
I just sat there and watched her. Nothing else. Everything else was forgotten. Until dusk fell. Suddenly a deafening noise tore the silence apart. The wild boars scattered in panic and fled. Headless. Only one dragged itself with difficulty. Blood ran from his side. One shot, but a bad one. As so often. To suffer. The family tore apart. Nothing could make up for that. The man with the rifle got down from the high seat and finished the injured boar. Everything was normal for him. He hadn’t seen her, the family and the lust for life. Only death is irreversible.
I wiped the tears from my face and ran home. Still, water will not flow uphill, but maybe a dam can be built as long as everything has not flowed away, and it will not flow as long as we are alive.