Brigitte Waldner

As far as the eyes can see,

within the section of my street
and the parallel street,
my ninety-two years old house is
the oldest of all houses here.
It is not run down,
but very well maintained:
It has been through a world war
and thousands of burglaries, thefts
and many lootings
from the nearest neighbors.
Built lovingly by my grandpa,
he gave us a beautiful home
in the most beautiful place in the street.

That's why certain people want to get rid of me,
because everyone wants to live here.
So I am mobbed badly throughout my whole life
by different people.
The place was chosen by my grandpa.
He was the first, who bought a property
in this section of my street.

By today I am the resident who has been here the longest.
I was born here 66 years ago.
Of the old people who had gradually built their houses here
and lived their lives here,
only one very elderly couple is still alive,
who built their house five years after I was born.
All the others built their houses later and much later.
Six couples are no longer living today,
four houses were sold after their deaths,
one of them is already for sale for the second time.

There are very different people here now than there used to be.
Jussuff said that the neighbor, who slandered me badly,
said that no one from the whole neighborhood likes me.
I don't know all these people, they are all new arrivals,
who are also much younger than I am.

The last person who bought a house here last year is a Dutchman.
He was immediately turned against me by my new neighbor
and has attacked me personally in my garden, as he walked by,
for something the neighbor had spitefully insinuated.
His wife walked by with her dog on the street
and said to me, without any reason, "You're crazy".
I refused to greet her.

I don't have to greet every foreigner, do I?
A foreigner is a foreigner to me, whether he comes from
Asia or from Europe, I don't care.
Who knows the reason, why he is here?
Why can’t he live in his country?
I believe, there is a mystery about him.
My new neighbor was imprisoned for years,
before he moved over here and now the Dutchman
and he have become good friends and both of them
and their relatives and children are mobbing me.
"Birds of a feather flock together."
I don't want to have anything to do with him
and I don't understand Dutch.

I speak Russian, Latin, Italian,
French, English and German.
I would talk to them.
What should I talk to a Dutchman,
if I don't know Dutch,
and he doesn't understand my German,
and thinks I'm a crazy old woman?

So what is the problem?
Some want to buy my property,
and I do not wish to sell it,
I want to live here on my own
with my little dog and my lovely cats.
I need it for myself.
All my relatives have already gone
and had given this house to me as their only heir.
I am the last one living.  I have no children.
Therefore they say,
nobody would like me.
Only those people, who want to take away my property,
do not like me. Got it?

I live in Austria and I think, I am seriously in danger,
they are threatening me, to let me vanish,
that the neighbor Charles can buy my property.

© Brigitte Waldner
 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Brigitte Waldner.
Published on e-Stories.org on 10/26/2022.

 

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