The breakup

“Anita, today I have made a difficult decision. We must break up. I can’t marry you! I will pack my things now and leave this house. Leave now and forever, Anita. And don't ask me to stay!” With these words, my beloved Victor returned from work to our cute and cozy house on the wood edge.

“Victor, what happened to you? Please calm down and let's talk. Explain your decision to me, please” I didn’t understand anything because yesterday everything was fine and nothing foretold such a storm in our relationship. We also never talked about marriage. 

“I always wanted to marry a witch! This is the dream of my life. She lovingly cuts through the herb bushes in a long cloak and skirts with a wicker basket to go with her for herbs. And then, in a cozy wooden house, she hangs bunches of herbs. And her kitchen is all filled with jars of oils, with dried buds shining through the glass, pots... A fire in the hearth, aromatic tea from wild herbs, and a pie with wild berries from the handmade custom oven, not a modern electric one... During bad weather, she whispers fairy tales about old times and ancient rituals before bed. And she always dances naked by the fire. And at night, she leaves a glass of milk and sweets for the brownie(1), and you don't even have a brownie. I never saw him, although you said he lives in the attic. Yes, I would gladly marry someone like that without thinking twice. And you... you are such an ordinary woman, not a witch! I'm leaving!" told Victor, packing his suitcase.

Yes, I am an ordinary woman with red hair and green eyes. I am not tall, a little overweight, and I wear glasses. I met Victor, by the way, while collecting herbs for drying. At first, everything seemed to suit him, but then his oddities appeared. He tried to tame me to dry herbs in the kitchen and showed me photos on the Internet of how to do it, huge bunches of herbs, hanging them on the walls, and I made a scene that I was allergic to. And I hung everything on the deck. We went out to nature with him, but I did not dance naked around the fire. I did not even dance half-dressed. I did not even dance barefoot. I danced in sneakers and jeans around the fire to the tunes from the phone, and he explained that a real witch should not do that. “Look how it should be,” he showed me a video from YouTube. I collected herbs not in a beautiful long dress, and I was wearing old ripped jeans. I also swore when thorns dug into my legs or arms. Victor's face at this time showed complete disappointment in me as a witch. I lived in a private house on the wood edge, but I had a multicooker, a food processor - the whole range of modern technology, which Victor did not approve of.

He did not like my hobby either. He thought I should leaf through ancient legends about witches, and I wrote books and read scientific literature.

“Why do you need biochemistry? Your grandmother should have left you her witch notes about all the properties of herbs,” he told me when I read scientific articles on biochemistry for my new book.

“And your cat is black and white, and you took him from an animal shelter. And the real witch's cat should be as black as night and choose his witch by himself. I saw this in the movie. “You don’t have a familiar, you are not a witch,” Victor told me every time he saw my cat.

We once went to a yoga class with a guru.

During the meditation, I said that the best meditation for me is a good book. I categorically refused to sit in the lotus position and say "AUUUM" with everyone else. My religion does not approve of strangers' unfamiliar prayers. Sometimes, he was ashamed to show up with me in a decent local community of witches.

I did not drink blood cocktails with him at midnight on Bruderschaft; I told him it was more preferable to drink a glass of red wine or "a couple of fingers" of bourbon in the evening.

"We were together for too long, five months. I thought we would get used to it and fall in love, but you are not a witch, Anita. But you are so ordinary. You don’t have a craving for the spiritual, the supernatural, for enlightenment and self-development. Goodbye! And don't call me ever again!" Victor left, closing the door behind him.

***

"Don't cry! Don't cry! I told you Victor was very strange when you brought him to our house! He read all sorts of nonsense about medieval witches on the Internet and tried to convert you into a witch based on his personal imagination. And you are a modern witch! Let's go to the kitchen, Nathaniel has already brewed you some tea, your favorite tea, with raspberries and currant leaves. “Once you have drunk it, we can think about your new ritual for big money." Said my familiar - cat named Oreo. He jumped on my lap and, purring, cuddled up to my tear-stained face. "And don't smudge my fur with your tears and snot." 

"Or we can try again that ritual from your granny's book on witchcraft. I think we need to add 10 drops of verbena oil," said my brownie Nathaniel. "And it's good that this under-witcher left your life, now you can calmly cast spells at any time and not wait for him to go to work"

I wiped away my tears. We went with the cat and the brownie to the kitchen. Now, I can take all my witchy ingredients from their hiding places and put them in my house.

(1) Brownie - in English and Scottish folklore, is a small, industrious fairy or hobgoblin believed to inhabit houses and barns. Rarely seen, he was often heard at night, cleaning and doing housework; he also sometimes mischievously disarranged rooms.