Ana and the Snake

Long ago in the days of our grandparents, in a small town in Bosnia, lived Ana. Many of you are probably wondering where this place is and what’s it like. Now let me see, Bosnia is so big that it would be impossible to describe it all in this story, but I can tell you about Ana’s town. Close your eyes and try to imagine about one hundred houses surrounded by a dark, damp and scented forest. Nearby there is a river. The little girl’s home was about forty steps from a mosque: she had counted them last Sunday as she played hide-and-seek with her cousin Mitja. The house was small and cosy. The strong aroma of Turkish coffee, her mother’s favourite drink, inundated each room from morning to night. It reminded Ana of damp logs; it could easily have been her favourite aroma if not for her grandmother’s ricotta cheese and honey biscuits that came in first.  You can smell it too, can’t you? Now open your eyes.

One morning Ana woke up to find that there was no one home, not her parents and not even Luis, the one-eared mutt. There was no hot steaming cup of her mother’s coffee on the table and not even the crumbs her father usually left before going to work. She was the only one home. Ana, with her messy red hair and her eyes wide open in surprise. She didn’t like being left alone: it really frightened her. She anxiously began searching each room. She thought she heard a sound and so she ran into the living room, but there was no one there.

She dilly-dallied for a while. She washed her face, put her hair into a ponytail, and got dressed. She put on her favourite headscarf. She paused a few seconds in front of the bathroom mirror: she asked the image reflected if she was dreaming. The Ana in the mirror did not answer so she sat down on the sofa and waited.

After just a few minutes, she got bored but then feeling bored was probably better than feeling scared. Without her mom there, she prepared herself a cup of hot milk. She dunked in about ten biscuits but still not satisfied she prepared three slices of bread with jam. Feeling stuffed she went back to the sofa leaving a glob of jam on the floor, the cupboard doors open, and the cup sitting on the edge of the table. She sank down into the sofa cushions and realized that anxiety had now taken the place of boredom. Her tiny body angrily tensed up. She took two deep breaths that were more similar to two hiccups and got up. Taking slow steps, she began to measure the entire surface of the house. She thought it was a good distraction like when you “count sheep” before falling asleep. That didn’t work either: the anxiety was growing and she could feel it rising to her throat. She turned and shouted: “Mum!” “Dad”. There was only silence.

She went out into the garden. All the plants were exactly where they should be. A dozen bees were dancing over the lavender. A chubby little bee – probably a bumblebee – was sprawled out on a large daisy stuffing itself with pollen. The sun was shining and blessing all things with its gaze. All this was enough to distract the little girl for just about a second. Then the anxiety came back to knock at her heart. She sat on the grass and began to cry. At that very moment, a snake approached her. It was huge with a small head and tiny turquoise scales that shone in the light. 

“What’s the matter little girl?”

“I’m all alone.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes, I woke up and there was no one home.”

“How long have you been alone?”

“I feel like it’s been forever.”

“Sometimes forever is just a second.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“Look around. You’re not alone.”

“That’s not true!”

“Calm down. There are things that exist even if we don’t see them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I left my brothers some time ago. Even if I don’t see them I know they are still there.”

“Have my parents left me?”

“That’s impossible. There must be an explanation. If they were snakes, I’d say that they had gone hunting for mice and had forgotten to say goodbye to you. Sometimes when we’re hungry we don’t really think about anything else.”

“Mum and dad don’t eat mice.”

“Of course they don’t but they love you. And the people that love you would never leave you alone.”

“And yet they did ….”

“Do you know what trust is?”

“No”

“It means remembering that something is true even when you can’t see it”

“My mum loves me. And so does my dad.”

Ana could feel the tension melting away from her shoulders. She could feel the heat of the sun on her face.

“When you leave home, do you remember that they love you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can you remember that now?”

“Yes, now I can.”

“Open your eyes now Ana, it’s time to get up.”

Ana, who was convinced that her eyes were already open, suddenly realised that this was not so. First, she opened her right eye and then she opened her left and she found herself in her bed. The turquoise cotton scales of her stuffed snake Eric were even brighter and shinier. She went over to the window and saw some chimneys blowing out rings of grey smoke and the minaret stretching out in the sun. She could smell the damp wood. No, wait... it was coffee! She got up and ran to the kitchen. Her father was eating bread and pâté: the crumbs were falling everywhere. Luis, her dog, was catching them before they even hit the floor. Her mum had her back turned to her and was pouring coffee into an emerald-coloured cup. 

“Good morning my dear” she said. That’s how her mum was like; she didn’t have to see her to know that she was there. Ana was bursting with joy. Her dad got up, put on his jacket and gave his daughter a kiss before leaving.

“Ana, I’m going out shortly to pick up some eggs at Danica’s. Do you want to come with me?” said her mum.

“No mum, I’ll wait for you at home.”

“Are you sure you won’t be lonely?”

“Absolutely! I’ll think about you and draw you a picture. That’s what I want to do today”.

Her mum’s eyes twinkled as she caressed Ana and thought that her beautiful daughter was all grown up.