Frisian Cookies…

…or why I had an emotional breakdown last Thursday.

Thursday morning one week ago hit me, out of the blue, the thought that I had not eaten Frisian Cookies for ages. Which was strange since I hadn’t thought about these delicious specialty from my favorite North Sea island Sylt for many, many years.

I had a pretty busy schedule that day so I had been unconcerned about this thought during the next hours, until I watched the NDR magazine ‘DAS!’ on TV in the evening. On Thursdays they always have a column about travelling in their program.

Last week they showed a travel report about Sylt, or more specifically about the small village ‘Morsum’ where I used to rent a vacation apartment when I was on holiday on the island in former times.

When the reporter visited the local bakery ‘Ingwersen’ and the camera caught a bowl with my beloved Frisian Cookies I stared disbelievingly on the television screen. Suddenly I felt a lump in my throat, burst into tears and couldn’t stop. After many years finally bemoaning the loss of something that used to heal my soul in days gone by like nothing else in the world could – the time on this beautiful island.

No matter what season, because I love Sylt in all seasons. Sylt and me, that was love at first sight when my best male friend Robert invited me for the first time back in July 1987. The islander say either one loves or hates Sylt on the first visit. I fell head over hills for its beauty.

I had not even been aware that I missed this f-ing island so much. Since I had managed it pretty well, to sweep my longing for this place under the carpet so far. But thanks to some ordinary Frisian Cookies these times were over now. It was like the valve of a pressure cooker was exploded and every feeling I had not allowed myself to feel during the past decade burst out in this one moment. So many great and so many painful memories flooded my mind and caused a totally unexpected emotional breakdown, so I could not stop to cry for hours.

In a flash I remembered the last day of our holidays on Sylt in May 2001, when my ex-husband and I were on our way to go home. The car train was already on the brink of the Hindenburgdamm. The radio played ‘The living years’ from ‘Mike and the Mechanics’ when I turned around to say good-bye to my beloved island, as always at this point of the journey.

Normally I used to laugh and call: “So long, island! See you next time!” Because I knew for sure I would come back in the next year. Strangely enough it was different on that Saturday. This time I just turned around, said nothing and thought full of sadness: “So long, until sometime.”

Little did I know that I would not return the other year, or in the years which followed until today. Also I had no idea that the vicissitudes of life would turn my entire life upside down in the blink of an eye in the very same year.

Or that our marriage would not survive this stroke of fate and I had absolutely no idea that the divorce and the arrangement of my new home afterwards would eat up all my savings, so there would be nothing left for holidays in the years to come. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. It’s just a simple fact.

Because for me it was a matter of course not to mount legal challenges to our marriage contract, even when the judge had told me I could have done this successfully. It simply was a point of honor not to do this, because I wanted to be able to take a look in the mirror with a good conscience in the morning every day.

A former close friend of mine even came into a bad conflict with me about this matter, because she could not understand my behaviour towards a man who had let me down in a time when I needed him the most.

Unfortunately I couldn’t make her understand that this was irrelevant and that it is just a question of character how someone deals with a situation like this. I can’t help it; it’s not in my nature to flay alive someone I once used to love, like she had done it when she was divorced from her husband. That’s not the way my Mum has raised me up.

I still think I did the right thing back then. Otherwise my ex-husband and I would hardly be friends anymore.

But I wander off the subject…

Meanwhile I feel fine again, after taking some time to come to terms with myself. I remembered the very important fact that nothing last forever. So I will see my beloved beautiful island again one fine day. It’s just a matter of time!


MUSIC:  The Living Years – Mike and  the Mechanics


About The Storyteller's Garden

Creature of the night ₪ ø ιιι ·o.
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