It was a week before christmas eve, and daughters, five and seven, was cold. I did a quick call-out to the job to retrieve the bit of paper. There would be a delay of approximately 20 minutes between the father’s departure and my homecoming, but it would probably go well.
On the way home I called from the phone booth in the Old town metro (yes, it was before mobiles were common) to say that I would act a little. But no one answered, so I ran home.
empty, and quiet. Hide-and-seek? When I searched under beds, sofas and in the closets crawled turmoil. What could have happened? They had escaped in the road to the ever equally enticing christmas market at the town square? No, their little boots and the overalls were left in the hall. Gone out in stocking feet? I began to fantasize about the big sacks and the panic was near.
the Third neighbor I called in at had heard the girls in the stairs, and at the same time, heard the older, always kind, a great actor who lived at the top. I rushed there and well, there they sat and drank the juice.
otherwise, always kind, was not gracious when he opened the door. Why did I when the daughters told us: They had been playing in the entryway, the victim shut the door, started to sob. When he came by, they had talked about the fact that ”the door is locked and mum has gone to work.”
He heard a little bit bad and I don’t think he understood my explanations. He looked severely at me when we walked, and said, ”girls, remember that you are always welcome up to uncle Sven”.
Malin Nordgren is the editor on the Inside and has a hard time understanding how you could be a parent – or work, for that matter – without mobile phones, firmly remember at the same time that it probably went about as good.