Memories?

I am ten years old. I am on a playground in Iceland, sitting on a swing. I talk poor icelandic. Children come, ask me:”What is your name?” I say my name, they ask me again and again. In deep frustation I go home.

I am 45 years old. I am bringing my son to the kindergarden. Children come running, hanging on the fence and call:”What is your name?” I start crying and can´t stop it.

I am 50 years old. I understand why the children were never satisfied with my answer. My name was no name to them. Had my name been Anna or Elin they would have been satisfied and we could have played together. Probably they thought I was saying some word in a foreign language. “Sabine”, nothing to connect with.

I am 58 years old. The memories get scrambeld. Was it that time Elli asked me to come home with her and showed me her fascinating collection of paper napkins? Since then I collect them too and still do.

Yes, I am connected to the world once again. A new cable, a new telephon connection and here I am. What I need now is some added hour to my days.