MEANING

 

I remember, it was January 30th. A boy was woken by the phone ringing at home. Someone else answered. It was ten minutes to seven in the morning. The day dawned rather heavy and sluggish. The snow had melted, but the temperature wasn't too high. It was cloudy and gloomy. His brother was calling. From the hospital. It turned out a human had been born. His wife, Justyna, had become a mother. Despite the unfavorable weather, a girl had been born. A new being, another soldier in the army of humanity.

For the man—a young boy—it was an important day. He was supposed to go to university at noon to see the results of the exam he had taken the day before yesterday. The news of his niece's birth disoriented him somewhat. He had never been in such a situation before. That's why it seemed a bit strange, uncanny.

He was afraid. He had passed the exam somehow, but he felt anxious. I'm not sure if it was anxiety only because of the exam. He was currently living through a rather difficult period. Personal events, specific relationships with other people, with one person, the thought of them—they haunted him. He'd recently had a birthday. He'd received a certain letter... Never mind. The fact was, he wasn't feeling his best mentally. His mind was racing with various thoughts and reflections. He probably wasn't coping very well with himself.

So he had to get up, wash up, eat breakfast, go to college. He should have been happy. That his brother had a daughter, that a very important and rather joyful event had occurred. At least not a sad one. He should have felt something. Some natural joy, elation, optimism. A small human being, yet unaware of anything, defenseless. Maybe one day he would be someone's only support and hope. Maybe one day he would do something good for someone, be an example of a person—a woman—who understands life. In short, the fact he encountered should have been uplifting. That's what he thought.

But he felt nothing. A colorlessness. A fear of the outcome was rising in his stomach. He always felt it. Especially now, perhaps because of the difficult moments of the present. Recent events, the entirety of his current reality, should have prompted him to think. He felt nothing but a certain anxiety and fear.

He was walking, or rather, riding, to school. He got off at the bus stop and suddenly heard a howl. Perhaps it was only in his head. No. A dog was walking toward him on the sidewalk. A medium-sized black-and-white mutt. He was staggering strangely. Suddenly, he fell onto his side. Steam was billowing from his mouth, he was staring ahead with cloudy eyes, breathing heavily. It was obvious he was in a bad way. The boy approached him. He couldn't bear the situation. The dog was dying. Someone said they saw what happened. He had just been sitting at a nearby bus stop, and the dog was walking beside him. He had also crossed the street a few times, as if searching for someone. He sniffed passersby. He thought he would find it. Maybe he still remembered the warm corner of his apartment, who knows. And now there was the street, the noise, the cars, the screams. He accidentally ran out into the road...

He was lying on the sidewalk. People passing by looked on curiously, as people do. The boy crouched down next to the dog. He touched its head, lifted it slightly, wanted to do something. But what? He was helpless. Resuscitation? He didn't know how. Another young man went to call the emergency vet. So someone else had noticed everything and didn't go any further. After all, a dog wasn't just trash lying on the street, it wasn't a thing.

It was almost twelve. The results at the university were surely posted. A crowd of students were receiving their student IDs. Despair, joy, fear. A heated atmosphere. The boy knew this. But he couldn't leave the dog. He was still standing over it. He felt a little embarrassed to be standing there. A bus stopped at the bus stop. Several dozen heads turned towards him – (curiosity, exam, the birth of a daughter). He crouched down next to the dog once more. His breathing slowed. Suddenly, he tensed, a spasm ran through his body. He died. In the boy's arms, beneath his head. A pink tongue lolled from his mouth. The ambulance was supposed to arrive soon. There was no point in waiting any longer. The other one, probably also a student, said he'd wait. He also spoke about the driver of the car who hit the dog. He didn't stop, he kept going.

The boy walked away towards the university. The hallway was crowded with people. Someone had handed him his ID card. A C. Great. Others had Cs, Cs. He was late. No one had any idea what kind of "adventure" he'd had. It depressed him a bit. That life continued to go on as normal. As if nothing had happened. And there, a dog had died. It had died in his arms, beside him. Here, laughter, jokes, student bliss after the results. Another bewilderment at the strange coincidence.

He was returning home. The dog was gone on the sidewalk. Everything looked normal. Nothing had happened.

Three different events, three different reactions, three different situations. Joy, suffering, fear. Seemingly different from each other. Someone was born, a dog died. Magdalenka—that's the name his niece had been given—would never see the dog again. He won't say, "Mom, look at this cute dog." The dog won't wag his tail at her anymore if they accidentally meet. She's there. He's gone. And now. Passed the exam. Relief. But that dog...

The boy was coming home. And he seemed to be feeling much better.