ONE MOMENT IN TIME
by Carna Zacharias

Slowly, I walked down a sun-dazzled street in Freiburg, a picturesque town in southwestern Germany. Spring had arrived early. Soon flocks of tourists would invade the nearby Black Forest, famous for its scenic beauty, and, of course, the cuckoo clock.

I was nineteen, and free for the first time in my life, free from a stepmother who had told me for nearly a decade how ugly, worthless and out of place -any place- I was. My mother was mentally ill, and I had spent the first years of my life in group homes and with foster parents.

Now I was doing what I loved most: studying and learning. I was enrolled at the local University and took classes in literature, philosophy, and psychology. So why was I still unhappy? It seemed as if the ghost of my stepmother had moved right into my head and was still commenting, whenever I looked into a mirror, or tried to be at ease with other people. I was so shy that I would not ask a stranger for directions when I lost my way in the strange town.

As I wended my way through Freiburg, all of a sudden a pudgy man jumped right in front of me.

"Doesn´t a pretty girl like you need an encyclopedia?" he said and pierced his weary eyes with effort into mine.

Now, it occurred to me immediately that this was nothing but a cheap come-on of a desperate salesman - I was, after all, the only girl in an advanced philosophy class.

But that wasn´t the point. The point was that at this moment something illuminated the dark void of my soul.

Doesn`t a pretty girl like you need an encyclopedia?

There always seemed to be just two types of girls: Either the bookish, timid kind (like me), or the flashy Barbie doll with a high-pitched voice and nothing to say. And guess who boys preferred. I was young and female, and, of course, I wanted to be popular and attractive - but I wanted to be profound and true to myself, too.

Doesn`t a pretty girl like you need an encyclopedia?

A grandiose vision was taking shape in my mind. I imagined a painting hanging in a museum. It showed a young, sophisticated lady in a long dress, leaning against a tree in a lush garden. A knowing smile lit her charming face. In her arm she held, without a hint of self-consciousness, a stack of books. On a golden plate underneath the picture was the engraved title: "Pretty Girl with Encyclopedia"

Appropriately modernized, that was the kind of girl I wanted to be.

I bought the encyclopedia, one volume per month. It took sacrifices to pay for it, but who needs to take the tramway, if you can walk? Who has to eat meat, if there is yoghurt? When each precious parcel arrived, I spent hours marveling at the royal blue color of the cover, the shine of the gold cut, and, of course, reading.

Within the next few years, I slowly came out of my shell. I discovered that you can enjoy life just for the fun of it. I made friends. I fell in love. And I actually learned to ask for directions when I got lost.

Years later, my stepmother died of cancer. Just before the end, she called me and asked, if I could come.

Gazing at the fairy-tale landscape of the Rhine River on the train from Munich to Cologne, I wondered how it would be between us, and if I could forgive her. It was easy. Side by side we looked at a collection of old photographs and talked about her childhood in Estonia. She did not ask my forgiveness in so many words, but I sensed the intention.

When I said good-bye, I was set free, at last.

About ten years ago, I married an American and moved to the United States. I did not take the encyclopedia with me. Who needs heavy, obsolete bricks of information that now can be to easily obtained on the Internet.

I go back to Germany often. Staying at my aunt´s house, where the encyclopedia is stored, I sometimes run my fingers across the faded royal blue, the dusty gold cut, and open one of the volumes at random. I remember, when the tacky remark of a stranger was a special moment in time for a young girl who needed it.

And I wonder, who this stranger was...

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