The Long Way Home

Snijeg

Snijeg is “snow” in  Croatian, and Sunday morning reminded me of Osijek, how frustrating and beautiful and unexpected each day was when I was there. I spent most of the winter  in a perpetual state of freeze. My apartment didn’t have central heat, only a large space heater from the 1960s that looked like two thin sheets of metal slapped together. I’d switch it on first thing in the morning, the red coils glowing as  I got ready for work. Sometimes I’d turn on the oven and open the door to warm my hands. You really do get used to wearing sweaters and mittens to bed, drinking mulled wine to calm your nerves.  This past Sunday, my tripod went missing, so I rigged a make-shift one in our backyard out of a wooden chair, two old books and a scarf to protect the camera. My eyes watered from the wind, so it was hard to focus, and my hands ached from cold. I thought, why the hell am I doing this, just as I had asked myself six years ago in Osijek. And it’s because I can’t imagine doing anything else at that moment.

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