Camilla: Violetta and the Pearl 8

-       -That’s a really sad story, Mu. What happens next?

-      - I will have to tell you the rest of the story another time honey. I really need to finish making some heart tea. I have a feeling we’re going to need it really soon.

-       -What does that dragon next to your bed have to do with this story though?

-       -In due time darling! Now, will you come and help me mixing the tea?

I realized I really knew very little about auntie Mu. She was the kind of a person who belonged to everyone, belonged to the moment. Impossible to place. Still, she was also a person with a past and with family somewhere. 

The only person she had ever told me about was the brother whose picture she kept next to her bed. His name had been Bernie and he was a violin builder, a very talented one. Mu had told me he was so gifted,  people came from afar to buy the violins he built on commission. She had lost him in the war. They looked like each other, he had the same gap between his front teeth. 

A violin builder. He understood music and wood, both. That must be so special to have skills that people really appreciate. As far as I know, I don’t really have any skills that might be useful to people and certainly nothing they would pay for. I mean, I can make really good lime tea, Mu says. I can tell in an instant if a person is lying. I can daydream like a master. And I run really fast. How could I ever create some kind of life package of those random and completely useless talents?

I know I don’t want to waste away somewhere with a job that makes me unhappy, but I am no dreamer like mom. My feet are right where they are, on the ground, even when I daydream. How was I to find something I could support myself with? I really wanted the stuff mom seemed to forget all the time. Electricity and groceries, for example.

The once things that kept me busy all the time just confirmed why I had a hard time finding friends my own age. Waking up in the morning, falling asleep on Mu’s bed, walking home from school in the rain, constantly present,  that question.

Why am I here?