Karitas Untitled by Kristín Marja Baldursdóttir

Author:Kristín Marja Baldursdóttir [Baldursdóttir, Kristín Marja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542027083
Google: AaRqzgEACAAJ
Publisher: Amazon Publishing
Published: 2022-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Karitas

Laundry at Sunrise 1924

Oil on canvas

The sun comes up from the sea.

The water’s surface is mahogany red.

The sky is dark violet.

Both colors grow lighter, so slowly that we don’t discern it, but we can feel our minds becoming clearer with each minute, until it leaves us, is sucked into the beam of light that formed on the tranquil sea, shoots into that flaming golden fireball.

Happiness fills our minds.

We sit at the cliffs, hold hands, watch the sunrise. Sigmar’s hand is warm and big, in his arms rests Jón, bundled in a woolen blanket.

The morning is mild and wonderful.

Then the sun rises, as majestic as a fairy-tale princess who wakens from a spell.

The fjord and the mountains become jewels.

We are as if hypnotized, hardly daring to breathe as this sublimely beautiful work of creation takes place.

Finally, I turn my head, look toward the countryside, see the elf city glow, our house rose gold at the mouth of the river and my laundry on the clotheslines, yellow and cheerful.

It flutters in the morning breeze, light and playful, its shapes so amusing, seen from the cliffs.

Sigmar had put up four clothesline poles in a square, which I’d never seen done before, but I hung the laundry on all the lines, and now it reminds me of cheery children doing a ring dance. I give a little chirp of delight; Sigmar thinks it’s because of the sun, and says: “Karitas, now you must paint some pictures of the sunrise, the sea, and the mountains.” “Yes,” I answer, “and then I’ll send Mama a few of them in gratitude for the clothing and the duvet covers she sent Jón.” He likes this idea very much, but I look at the duvet covers and sweaters belonging to Jón, Sigmar, and myself leading each other in their ring dance on the clotheslines, and know very well what it is I will paint.

We’ve been sitting on the cliff for a long time when it occurs to me that I’ve forgotten yet again to take the laundry down before bed.

It wasn’t little Jón who bothered her—he slept all day and night—but the women who were constantly on the move from house to house. The higher the sun rose in the sky, the busier they became, which meant endless comings and goings and chatter. They stopped to see Karitas, some with whole groups of children in tow, such as Karlína, or with neighbor women at their heels, such as Högna, and they all wanted to know how little Jón was doing, whether he needed anything. She was extremely grateful to them for their concern, but sighed to herself because the constant stream of visitors meant endless coffee brewing and bread baking. Luckily, Kára was always just around the corner when the disturbance was at its worst; she would show up without warning in the kitchen and be kneading dough with a pained expression long before Karitas had even given a thought to doing so. “I don’t understand why they’re so keen on visiting me now.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.