WITH FAMILY

The pink terracotta tiles on the hallway floor brightened her wrinkled face. A golden smile blended into the wrinkles, and her eyes lit up with delight at the Spanish manufacturer's product. Where an old burgundy carpet had been, her modest figure was now reflected in the gleaming floor. Walls as fresh as green spring grass caught the old woman's gaze. "My God, it's so young and beautiful here," she thought for a moment as she walked across the slippery floor. In her old boots, she entered this land of modern prosperity, which brought back no memories at all. In the middle of the hallway, she caught sight of herself in a plastic mirror from a large department store. Where her photos had once hung, her failing eyes now glimpsed elegantly combed silver hair. The beautiful woman from the photo had vanished amid the hustle and bustle of renovations, now comforting only the basement rats with her sight. Her next steps evoked new impressions. Encouraged by her newly arrived grandchildren, the old woman put on her slippers. Their pink color made them almost invisible to the old woman against the terracotta. Now she floated, carried by the new decor of her old house. Her granddaughter encouraged her to enter the living room. She passed through the same door she had passed through for fifty years. This time, it transported her to a completely different land. The threshold seemed the same height, yet somehow felt heavier to overcome. The doorknob was also black and cool, but the creaking sound of the door opening was decidedly softer and quieter. When she let go of the handle, the door was already fully open. In the center of the room stood a set table. Where glass bottles of orange soda had always stood that day, now stood a single, large, red, plastic bottle. The table was the same as before. It stood under the same lamp it had been for half a century, now brighter thanks to Japanese bulbs. Opposite the table, behind snow-white curtains, windows let in the sun. The view from them was clearer than before. The curtains flowing down them no longer swayed with the trees in the rhythm of the wind, as they once did. They shielded them from the sound of the wind, which, on long summer evenings, brought back the old woman's childhood in the countryside.

It was her eighty-fifth birthday, an age when some people think only of death, and life becomes incredibly repetitive. Watching television all day, mostly game shows and Polish dramas, preferably religious ones. Listening weekly to the same radio programs she had been listening to for twenty years, especially the Concert of Wishes. The morning rosary, which she could probably even recite backwards. Swallowing colorful tablets, the variety of colors making them more appealing. The same breakfasts and dinners, consisting of a roll with butter and jam, tea, always with lemon and two teaspoons of sugar. Sunday chicken soup, which the old lady had been looking forward to all week. Radio Mass, during which she sang in a squeaky voice, in her small room. The afternoon stroll in the hallway, where she paced like a prisoner in custody.

But now the repetition and the desire to depart for the "other world" were gone. She was incredibly animated and excited. A smile never left her face. She offered everyone a cake she'd bought at the bakery. She wanted to talk to everyone. She wasn't fazed by the fact that only her great-grandson, who was the only child at the celebration, was listening. Together they unwrapped the gifts, the most curious of which was the red box. The birthday girl quickly made do with the colorful paper in which the chocolates were wrapped. The high price, though unscratched, only made her grandmother even more impatient. She clumsily tried to get to the contents, unable to open this devilish box. Seeing this, the boy snatched the chocolates and quickly opened them. Without a second thought, he grabbed one and ate it. A grimace appeared on his face. He stuck out his tongue, showing it to the other guests, which caused his parents to laugh. The old woman took the box from the boy and began offering it to the family. The delight in their mouths was immense. They savored the exquisite creation. The grandmother, like her great-grandson, was not impressed by the exquisite taste. She grimaced, saying that they weren't sweet enough.

The overabundance of birthday treats had irritated her sick intestines. The old woman left the room to walk down the long hallway to the bathroom. To her delight, despite so many changes, the hallway light was still on in the same spot. With confident, quick steps, she headed toward the toilet. The pain was increasingly excruciating, but when she entered, it subsided for a moment. A sense of wonder swept over her again. Everything was spotlessly clean. All the elderly residents had been brutally exterminated by insecticides. There was no longer room for hanging cobwebs in the corners. For a moment, the old woman forgot her duty to nature. Finally, the woman lifted the toilet lid. Its interior gleamed with a blinding light. Seeing this, she feared disturbing the carefully crafted sterility. Finally, having no choice, she timidly sat on the porcelain throne and began to return nature's treasures. What surprised her most, however, was the exquisite acoustics. The food she had just swallowed escaped from within, benefiting from the excellent sound system. The toilet initially resounded with isolated, timid sounds. Later, it transformed into the scene of a bloody, artillery battle. The woman listened with obvious discomfort. The pain she felt, however, was stronger than the unnatural shame. She fought this difficult battle alone to keep her digestive system light.

No sounds from the toilet reached the living room. The guests were busy exploring the freshly renovated house. They admired the new leather sofa. Bought at the suggestion of a glossy catalog, it was occupied by a sullen teenage granddaughter. Her pale makeup stood out against her black, dyed hair. Resentful of her lost childhood, she spoke to no one. Every now and then, she sipped diet mineral water, appearing incredibly bored. She nervously glanced at her watch, impatiently waiting for this whole charade to end.

The noises in the bathroom stopped. The pain vanished, and Grandma felt a tremendous sense of relief. She was glad that this ordeal was over. She grabbed a pink piece of paper, which seemed terribly flimsy. After using many sheets, crumbling in her hands, she stood and went to the sink. In the mirror above, she saw a face worn out by the effort. Amidst the colorful, rejuvenating cosmetics, her old face was visible. Tired of such a simple, everyday task, she puzzled over how to turn on the water. Finally, she figured out this devilish technique, and water gushed from the gleaming faucet. The sight delighted the old woman. She quickly washed her hands, which she quickly dried with a fragrant towel. She headed for the exit. She reached the door and grabbed the handle. To her despair, she couldn't open it. She tried many methods, but all proved ineffective. She began shouting and banging on the door.

Her weak voice, however, wasn't strong enough to reach the living room. There, everyone marveled at the happiness of their newly arrived grandchildren. The new carpet, the furniture—all of this was a source of joy. It was hard to imagine that not so long ago, vases had been juggling from an old, broken, and burned-out sideboard. Playing hide-and-seek was replaced by sitting at the computer and constantly feeling tired. As they got married, a routine slowly settled into their lives. Comfort became increasingly important. At home, they began wearing increasingly warm slippers, without which moving around was impossible. Shops changed to designer ones, and the music they listened to became more sophisticated, even boring to some. Their hairstyles became more serious, their shoes and glasses less extravagant. Others' problems ceased to matter. Apparently, this must be the price of another childhood.

The old woman began to feel exhausted. Her voice faded with each call. Exhausted and discouraged by the lack of response, she sat down on the toilet. A moment later, she fell asleep. Untroubled by anyone, she dreamed of Germans with chocolate guns.