I sat in my room, looking out through the window at the autumn trees and thinking about something. My small son was crying beside me. \u2018Autumn has come…\u2019 I thought. \u2018Autumn…\u2019<\/p>\n
My son was crying. Outside the yellow poplars stood motionless in the still air. A family, who lived next door to us, passed by. They were carrying large leather suitcases which they left in the car and went back into their house for the bags. They were going abroad. They travel every autumn. They lock up their flat, load their suitcases onto their car and disappear. They stay away for two or three months. A plane passed quite low over the rooftops and shook its wings.<\/p>\n
\u2018All right!\u2019 I said to my son. \u2018Why don\u2019t you get hold of your mother?\u2019<\/p>\n
His mother was at work.<\/p>\n
\u2018When she comes home, get hold of her,\u2019 I advised him. \u2018She\u2019ll be coming back. In another couple of hours.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018It would be too late\u2019, he said. And he wanted to be told a story now.<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, you have got out of hand,\u2019 I said, \u2018You want it now. When we were children…\u2019<\/p>\n
My son continued to cry monotonously. I began to think about what we used to do once upon a time. The soft scent of leaves came through the open window, a tiny stream of smoke was borne on the breeze, scarcely perceptible in the autumn air. My son cried on.<\/p>\n
\u2018You want a story,\u2019 I said, reproachfully. \u2018But once upon a time I was reared in a suitcase.\u2019<\/p>\n
He stopped crying.<\/p>\n
\u2018How were you reared in a suitcase?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Just like that,\u2019 I told him, \u2018in a suitcase.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Was it a big one?\u2019 he asked.<\/p>\n
\u2018Middle-sized,\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n
My son grew thoughtful. He is still very small, like a crumb.<\/p>\n
\u2018Was it a leather suitcase?\u2019 he asked.<\/p>\n
\u2018No, a cardboard one,\u2019 I answered. \u2018The suitcase was made of cardboard. Only one man in our neighbourhood had a leather suitcase. He was very rich; he had a lime pit. But people said even about his suitcase that it was made of artificial leather.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018But how did they rear you in a suitcase?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018There wasn\u2019t any money for a cradle,\u2019 I answered. \u2018All the money went on the two white horses and the drink.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018What white horses?\u2019 my son asked.<\/p>\n
\u2018They brought me home from the maternity hospital with them. It was a carriage with two white horses. Because I was a boy.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018And how many white horses did you bring me home with?\u2019 asked my son.<\/p>\n
\u2018We brought you home in a taxi,\u2019 I answered. \u2018Those were different times. At that time, after drinking in my honour, my people got the cardboard suitcase, spread a couple of diapers in it, and put me inside.\u2019<\/p>\n
My son frowned. He had seen me do it. His whole forehead was wrinkled. He was thinking.<\/p>\n
\u2018Did the suitcase lock?\u2019 he asked a minute later.<\/p>\n
\u2018It did,\u2019 I said. \u2018One of the locks worked.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018What about the other one?\u2019 asked my son.<\/p>\n
The other one, what was the other lock like? Autumn was outside the window, the leaves were brown, the sun shone softly and the two yellow quinces which were still on the little tree gleamed in the sunshine.<\/p>\n
\u2018The other used to catch,\u2019 I remembered. \u2018It stuck when you tried to open it.\u2019<\/p>\n
It really did. I remember, the suitcase was kept in the garden, under the morello tree, which had long since lost all its leaves, and only a small sparrow twittered about its top. My sister was fussing around me, tied to the morello tree by a short rope, to keep an eye on me. Otherwise she would have run away and gone to play hop-scotch with the other girls. The rays of the soft autumn sun played over my face making me screw up my eyes from time to time. My sister sat beside me, gathering the fallen leaves and piling them up in a heap. After that she got tired of this, she peeped into the suitcase, began to press my nose and wink at me. I lay there meekly, smiling. When she got tired of this my sister said:<\/p>\n
\u2018Shall we just shut the suitcase? Would you like that?\u2019<\/p>\n
And she dropped the lid. The suitcase was shut. It grew dark inside, and outside my sister was locking it.<\/p>\n
\u2018D\u2019you see?\u2019 she cried. \u2018I\u2019ve shut it.\u2019<\/p>\n
She played for a time around the closed suitcase, then when she tried to open it, she found she couldn\u2019t because one of the locks was jammed. She panted around the suitcase, even gnawed at the lock with her teeth and hammered it with her patten.<\/p>\n
Then she said in a trembling voice:<\/p>\n
\u2018Hey, can you see the sky?\u2019<\/p>\n
I held my tongue.<\/p>\n
\u2018And the quinces? Can you see the quinces? Those over there, the yellow ones.\u2019<\/p>\n
I lay in the suitcase, and through the holes I could only see a quarter of the sparrow\u2019s tail. Several holes had been made in the suitcase so that I could breath. \u2018What about me?\u2019 my sister asked, \u2018Can\u2019t you see me either?\u2019<\/p>\n
I held my tongue and didn\u2019t answer. I couldn\u2019t talk yet.<\/p>\n
My sister sat down beside the suitcase and began to cry. I listened from inside, I listened to her, but it was dark inside the suitcase and I went to sleep. I thought it was already night.<\/p>\n
I was awakened by my father\u2019s voice. He had got back from his job and was untying her, while he scolded her for shutting the suitcase.<\/p>\n
\u2018Come along now, we\u2019ll go and see someone,\u2019 he said after that. \u2018We\u2019ll go to the godparents.\u2019<\/p>\n
They lived at the other end of town. Going there was always very interesting. It would begin in the tram. \u2018A ticket for your luggage, please!\u2019 the conductor would say. And without waiting for an answer he would tear off a luggage ticket.<\/p>\n
\u2018Doesn\u2019t need one,\u2019 my father would say. \u2018Still too small.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018What d\u2019you mean? Too small?\u2019 the conductor would say, surprised. \u2018Just look at the size.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018You can\u2019t see like that,\u2019 my father would answer politely. \u2018You\u2019ve got to open the suitcase.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Why should I open it?\u2019 the conductor would say. \u2018I can see its size without opening it. It\u2019s just big enough for a luggage ticket.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018There are rules,\u2019 my father would say then. \u2018Still small and has the right to travel without a ticket.\u2019 \u2018What are you thinking of?\u2019 the conductor would say, losing his temper. \u2018Perhaps you want to wait for it to grow?\u2019<\/p>\n
My father would answer that all his efforts were concentrated on that and nothing else.<\/p>\n
The conductor would grow thoughtful, then look carefully at my father, convince himself that he looked quite normal and then would stick the ticket under his nose again. Seeing that the man was beginning to be really angry, my father would open the suitcase, point at me and say?<\/p>\n
\u2018Just look. Does he look to you as if he were six years old?\u2019<\/p>\n
Sometimes the conductors would be so startled that they would drop their punches on the floor. And sometimes they would give me the ticket stubs, which I would chew at once. Sometimes there would be indignant citizens in the tram who asked my father how he could carry a baby about in a suitcase. It wasn\u2019t hygienic, and so on.<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, that\u2019s how he was born,\u2019 my father would answer. \u2018In a suitcase. Some are born in cauls, but mine was born in a suitcase.\u2019<\/p>\n
We would leave the tram at the last stop; my father would buy popcorn for my sister, and we would set out through the park which was crowded with children. They crawled about like insects everywhere. My father would open the suitcase, untie the straps which held me in place and let me out to play with the children. I would crawl towards the yellow sand at once, sit there and wait for my sister to make a castle for me so that I could spoil it. As soon as we had played enough, we would go back to my father, he would put me back in the suitcase, shut the lid, lock it and we would set off for our godparents\u2019 house.<\/p>\n
There was a notice on the inside of the lid: \u2018Persons picking up this suitcase by mistake are politely requested to return it together with contents to the following address: Then came our address. Dad put in that notice after the suitcase with me inside had been stolen once. He left me beside a stall where he had stopped to buy cigarettes. And while he was explaining to the stall-holder where he had bought his shirt, the suitcase vanished.<\/p>\n
There was a terrible fuss. My father dashed off to look for me, going around the streets, and swearing he would give up smoking and never put another cigarette in his mouth. He went into shops, peered under the counters and looked so wild that the shop assistants cowered up against the walls and waited for him to clear out. It was a good thing he thought of going back to the same stall from which he had bought his cigarettes. The stall-holder was delighted to see him, and took him into the stall. There was the suitcase, in which I was sleeping without a care in the world.<\/p>\n
\u2018Two chaps brought it,\u2019 the stall-holder said. \u2018It was just a joke. They said they were your friends, and that you would be sure to call for it.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, yes,\u2019 my father said, absent-mindedly. \u2018Give them my regards.\u2019<\/p>\n
He seized the suitcase and carried me off home. On the way he lit another cigarette.<\/p>\n
\u2018To my mind, they were more the stall-holders\u2019 friends than mine,\u2019 he told my mother. \u2018I wondered why the fellow asked about my shirt, when he was wearing exactly the same one.\u2019<\/p>\n
And he wrote on the lid the appeal to absent-minded gentlemen who are in the habit of picking up other people\u2019s suitcase by mistake. And who were surely bitterly disappointed when they saw me.<\/p>\n
When we arrived at the godparents\u2019, their children \u2013 they had seven of them \u2013 poured out of the house to welcome us in the courtyard. They would kick up fearful noise, seize the suitcase and carry it carefully into the house, where they opened it slowly. I would sit up in it and examine them one by one. They would give shrieks of delight and pinch my cheeks. They had seen the grown-ups do that. I was a great favourtie with them, and they all wanted to pinch me. By the time the seventh had had his turn, my cheeks would be quite black and blue.<\/p>\n
My father and the godparents would sit out in the yard under the pergola, talking about the next day and making all sorts of plans of which we were the centre.<\/p>\n
When it began to grow dark, my father would shut the suitcase, take his leave of the godparents and set off for home.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s how I lived in the suitcase. In summer, it was left out in the garden and all day long I would watch the branches of the cherry tree above me, the sparrows flitting from branch to branch and the clouds passing across the sky slowly and changing their shape.<\/p>\n
I lived in the sky. I almost never saw the earth and did not know it. Sparrows flitted about the sky, the red tiles of the neighbouring house, and the clouds were all in the sky. Later, in the autumn, the leaves of the trees would begin to come down to me in the suitcase. They were brown, warm and made a slight rustling noise. The leaves fell, whirling in the air and gently falling into the suitcase.<\/p>\n
I lived in the sky for a whole year.<\/p>\n
\u2018Dad,\u2019 said my small son.<\/p>\n
\u2018I lived in the sky for a whole year,\u2019 I told him. Outside the window it was real autumn. Brown leaves whirled in the air and fell slowly to earth, I sat in my room thinking. The neighbours came out again carrying bags. They put them on the back seat, the car started off and was lost among the yellow poplars.<\/p>\n
A wasp buzzed at the window, wanting to come into the room, then it gave up the idea and flew off somewhere. The late autumn sun shone on the window panes. Beside me sat my small son, crying.<\/p>\n
I looked at him and said:<\/p>\n
\u2018Very well. The suitcase was neither big, nor small, made of cardboard…\u2019<\/p>\n
On the following day his mother came to me, horrified.<\/p>\n
\u2018Look,\u2019 she said, showing me our green suitcase. \u2018He has pierced it. In five places.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Tell him to come here,\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n
\u2018But don\u2019t beat him,\u2019 his mother begged. \u2018Don\u2019t beat him hard.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Tell him to come.\u2019<\/p>\n
A little later they all came; my son, his mother and the suitcase.<\/p>\n
\u2018So,\u2019 I said, looking him straight in the eye. \u2018You pierce holes in suitcases, do you?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, how can I breathe otherwise?\u2019 he asked, and everything was clear to me.<\/p>\n
\u2018Can you fit into it at least?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s just a little too narrow, but never mind,\u2019 said my son. \u2018Shall we go?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Where?\u2019 asked his horrified mother. \u2018What are you thinking of?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018We\u2019re going to the park,\u2019 I said. \u2018For a walk.\u2019<\/p>\n
The gardens of our neighbourhood, which we call a park, were full of children. They were running around the walks, digging in the sand, and were being pushed around in bright, deluxe prams made of duraluminium.<\/p>\n
When I opened the suitcase and my small son got out of it, the whole gardens gathered around us. He paid no attention to anyone, crawled up to the sand and began to play with a little pail. He played for a while, then came, got into the suitcase and said that he wanted to go to the other end of the gardens to the slides. I shut the suitcase and set off. After us came a crocodile of children, watching curiously and waiting to see what would happen.<\/p>\n
But nothing special happened. My son slid down the wooden slides, the children gave him a push at the top, and I caught him down below at the bottom of the slide. After that he climbed up the iron sticks of the turtle, rode on it for a time and then got back into the suitcase.<\/p>\n
\u2018Let\u2019s go home,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n
And we triumphantly left the gardens, accompanied right to its other end by children and also by their parents.<\/p>\n
On the following day, three persons arrived in the gardens with suitcases. They opened them, and out of them crawled children, who at once scattered over the rock garden. The fathers opened their papers and began to read, in exemplary fashion.<\/p>\n
The plaid sports prams and graceful high baby prams with springs, nets, brakes and what have you gathered haughtily and began to make comments. We men with suitcases began to greet one another with nods when we met at the fountain or the swings, exchanged papers and passed the cigarettes round. The prams passed us by contemptuously and majestically, without paying any attention to us, behaving as if we didn\u2019t exist.<\/p>\n
About eleven o\u2019clock, a graceful pram swam up to us, from which loud wails were coming.<\/p>\n
\u2018Do excuse me,\u2019 the woman said. \u2018But could he sit in the suitcase for a little while?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Of course,\u2019 I said, pointing to it. \u2018Let him sit there as long as he likes.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018He wants to sit in the suitcase,\u2019 the offended woman explained. \u2018He\u2019s been howling all morning. What he likes about that suitcase I really can\u2019t make out.\u2019 As soon as he sat down in the suitcase, the baby stopped howling. He stared at us with his blue eyes, obviously expecting something more of us.<\/p>\n
I gave up my paper and made a hat for him out of it. To his mother\u2019s horror I put it on his head. She was ready to faint, torn by terrible visions of microbes and bacilli jumping out of the suitcase and the paper onto her unfortunate child.<\/p>\n
The unfortunate child smiled, waved its hands and pulled the hat down right over its nose. This was too much for the mother, she seized him and thrust him back into his pram. The child set up a wail and we could hear him howling for a long time, as he was wheeled away down the green avenue.<\/p>\n
A few days later the gardens looked like a railway station. Along all the walks, at the lake with the goldfish, at the slides and the iron tortoise, men carrying suitcases were walking about. The children played, lay in them, toasted themselves in the sun, or tried to lock themselves out, dragging the suitcases over the sand and rolling them on the grass. Among them, like lonely islets, the brilliant prams could be seen carefully making their way amid the suitcases.<\/p>\n
\u2018D\u2019you see what you\u2019ve done?\u2019 I said to my small son.\u2018You deserve to be well spanked. You really do.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, it was just a story, wasn\u2019t it?\u2019 he answered. \u2018And stories always end happily.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018You know it all, don\u2019t you?\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n
After that I stuck him into the suitcase and took him home.<\/p>\n
The short autumn day was coming to an end, the sun was already growing weaker.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I sat in my room, looking out through the window at the autumn trees and thinking about something. My small son was crying beside me. \u2018Autumn has come…\u2019 I thought. \u2018Autumn…\u2019 My son was crying. Outside the yellow poplars stood motionless in the still air. A family, who lived next door to us, passed by. … <\/p>\n