Pomlazka

All five of us walked through the rusted gate, past the flower shop and off the cobblestone street, onto uneven pavement that led to a shabby, gray-plastered house that sat within a courtyard. Like most Czech houses, at least those in the city, the main entrance consisted of two large, wooden doors with ornate iron knobs. There were no windows. The brown paint was peeling, revealing a layer of orange-tinted wood that was dry and cracked. Filip turned the knob, and we all made our way into the first hallway. It was dark and quite damp, giving us the feeling that we were walking in an underpass that lead to the departure platforms at a train station. It was a dingy place.

I heard a faint voice from around the corner, “I don't know them. I wasn't expecting visitors." The nurse who was the primary care-taker came back to us and informed us that we would have to wait a few minutes, as she needed to prepare. "It's hard for her to walk now, you know." "She isn't feeling very well today." We all stood at the stoop and pondered whether this was a good idea or not:
Number one, we're all incredibly young--I being the oldest at 25--and two out of the five of us don't speak Czech as a native language. In my gut, I had the feeling like I was completely and utterly out of place. But, we had gone too far now; there was no way we would be able to slyly escape back to our bikes and continue on our way.

The first image I remember was of an old woman rounding a corner, dressed in a pink bath robe with a fuzzy neck made of long thread; giving it a soft look like that of a stuffed animal. Her feet were adorned in equally comfortable-looking slippers that had plush, white wool covering the whole inside. I saw that her hair was long, and straight; it was pulled back into a pony tail that made its way down past her shoulder blades. Most shocking of all, it still had streaks of darkness--maybe brown or black, I wasn't sure. Her eyes were set close and round. They had a glassy look to them, and seemed to be watery all the time. "Definitely someone old.” I thought. Her mouth was beautifully shaped and her lips were still full, albeit, they had lost some color over the years. Gripping her cane, she looked up at all of us and said, "I'm sorry I'm so slow today." "I've been feeling pretty sick lately." Her voice was high-pitched and had a waver that is normally expected from an old larynx. I couldn't resist a smile; I don't think I've seen anything quite that adorable in my life. Her nurse offered a basket of tin-foiled wrapped eggs, which were to be our gift. The old women, waveringly, grasping as tight to her cane as she could, grabbed one egg for each of us. "I don't have ribbons, and I'm too old to paint them for you, so all I have is a few chocolate ones." "I'm sorry I've been feeling quite ill today,” she said as she placed candy into the palm of my hand.

After she had given each one of us our 'due', I leaned down with my pomlazka and began lightly tapping her legs and proceeded to say the rhyme. Filip and Matej both joined in. Her face looked up to the rest of the boys who were waiting in the doorway, and cracked one of the widest smiles I have seen in quite some time. Her face was so beautiful at that moment; her smile creating a perfect octagon from her chin up to her nose. It creased her cheeks into two very long dimples. I knew that her teeth were probably fake, but I liked the idea that I couldn't really be sure; all I knew, is that they were white and healthy-looking.

Once the rhyme had been said, and the wishes for health and fertility were meted out, we all rushed out through the door. One my way back to my bike, I asked Filip if he thought it was good that we had come. He replied, "Yes. This is probably her last Easter." "She is 101 years old."