During school vacations, she usually visited her grandma. They shared a truly special bond. Even as a child, she would go pick blueberries for Grandma, earning a few coins. Afterward, Grandma would sprinkle sugar on the same blueberries and serve them back in a beautiful bowl. They often sat together watching TV or talked in the kitchen. Sometimes, Grandma told stories about her own childhood.
She had lived through wartime as a child and had suffered eardrum damage from an air bomb. The explosion put her in a coma for 14 days, causing her to forget parts of her early childhood before the incident. She spoke of sitting on her grandad's lap, of his home—a small castle—and of their horses. She remembered caring for them and even tending to the white rabbits they kept for their fur. They brushed and cleaned the rabbits diligently, ensuring they remained spotless and pure white.
Grandma's cooking skills were exceptional, and her dishes were always something new and delicious. But the one meal they particularly enjoyed together was breakfast: buckwheat porridge—hers with plums, and the child's with chocolate chunks. Every day, they went for a walk. Sometimes to the forest, the ice cream shop, her friend's house, or just through the town streets. They rarely argued, and if they did, it was usually over small misunderstandings. They even went swimming in public pools and took care of their health.
Even in bad weather, Grandma took the time to teach her calligraphy. Sitting in the kitchen with something warm cooking on the fire, they would write, read, talk, or solve puzzles. It was the most peaceful and enjoyable time.
On weekends, Grandma baked bread—a lot of bread. She made about 20 loaves in the old, built-in fireplace. The fireplace was large and square, with beautiful ceramic tiles on the side facing the living space. The tiles, though brown like wood, were adorned with swan carvings so detailed that they stood out prominently, making it a truly special feature in the house. When the oven was fully heated, it became so hot that they had to open the windows. After a while, once the heat subsided, they would lie on it and soak in its warmth. On days they didn't use it as a giant sofa, Grandma kept herbs on top, drying them before storing them in paper bread bags. When it was time to bake, she carefully moved the herbs aside.
The bread she made was a mix of potato and flour. She always started baking in the early morning, even before the sun rose. Most baking days, the goddess—then just a human child—would wake up, run to her grandma, and help her. She usually arrived just in time to help mix the dough. She loved kneading it, and Grandma always reminded her not to make it too stiff. In a giant wooden box, they prepared so much dough that it yielded around 20 large loaves. It felt magical.
All the loaves were placed into the oven with a large, flat tool, much like those used for pizza baking today. Once they were inside, they waited. Watching Grandma move, bake, clean, and work with such care and skill was something truly heartwarming.
All the things she did with her grandmother soothed her mind. The warmth she received from her father and grandmother was enough for her to feel like part of the family. Since most of the family members seemed to have something against her, she avoided them.
She spent time in her room after school or walked through the forest. Even though she was a teenager now, she still loved her forest walks. When she stayed in her room, she sat on her bed, closed her eyes, and felt the wind. Her meditation helped her cope with the many stressors she encountered. Sometimes, she put on the radio and played her favorite music, even though her brothers complained about the songs.
At school, she met a boy who began following her, standing off to the side whenever she was with her so-called friends. After about two weeks, one of her friends told her to meet the boy in the main hall. He asked for her number, and she gave it to him.
For the next few months, they often met in the main hall of the school, talking, joking, and, eventually, some of them started smoking. Walks in the park or around the streets after school became more frequent. One day, they sat on the roof of one of the school buildings. She didn't look down and sat near the walls. The same boy, whom she now talked to on the phone even at home, asked her to be his girlfriend. She refused at first, telling him about her family and her respect for marriage. She was oblivious to his bad mood after the conversation and walked off, filled with happiness and innocence. However, her friend, who walked in the same class with her, mentioned that he was sad and suggested she might give him a chance. Annoyed by this a few times on the bus, and seeking peace of mind, she finally agreed. She wrote him a message, replying that maybe they could try. She didn't think much of it and just went with it.
She and he texted all day, sometimes late into the night. Her phone bills got higher a few times, and to save money on transportation, she started roller skating all over town.
While all of this was happening, she never stopped going to the library. She found new books to read and secretly expanded her knowledge. Sadly, most of the information was soon forgotten, but sometimes she remembered bits of it when talking to others. Unfortunately, this too ended badly, as most people didn't share the same interest in mystical or philosophical books.
Her days passed quickly, spent between school, the library, and occasionally with the boy in the park or on walks, then at home helping on the family farm. As time went by, she lost sight of who she truly was. Some dreams gave her messages, but she soon forgot them. This human life, full of distractions, took up all her time instead of reminding her of her lessons and her mission here.
But at least her interest in the mystical opened doors that would later lead to greater awareness.