The rain was singing its splashing, monotonic song all night long. When Maija woke up, it was grey and quiet again. Stretching and shaking with cold, she pulled the thick blanket up to her chin. She looked upon the unfamiliar bare walls, searching for something with her eyes. In her old room, a clock was always ticking on the walls, counting seconds, minutes and hours, going round and round and round and never getting tired. It was at least twice older than Maija herself, and still the clock was never let, but Maija was late always and everywhere. The clock always reminded her that the time she had was limited. It was always time to do something. She was always lating. And in her young soul steadily grew the feeling that she was late somewhere. A little feeling of rush developed in her heart. But here, there was no clock.
She sat on the bed, her bare feet not reaching the floor. It was gloomy outside the window. No bright colors - only grey, and blue like steel, and brown and dying yellow. And still, there was a beauty of a certain kind. The Northern land isn"t generous. But its modest beauty cannot be compared to anything else.
Maija got dressed, hastily pulling on the most suitable clothes she had brought in her small suitcase, and those weren"t too warm anyway. When she was already wearing two shirts, a jumper and two pairs of woollen socks, she decided that it would be about enough, and left her room, locking the door carefully behind her. She knocked quietly on the door of her father"s bedroom, but there was no reply. Since she was sure he was awake already, and also because she couldn"t hear her father"s familiar snoring, she assumed that he was working already. She went down the stairs to his working room. The door was open, and Vlad was sitting at the table and writing something energetically on a piece of paper.
"Good morning, Mai," - he said, as he smiled and got up to greet her. He kissed the girl on her forehead, tickling her with his rough mustache. - "how did you sleep, sunshine?"
"I had a decent rest, papa, thank you," - she replied, - "although it got so chilly in the morning that I woke up. I couldn"t imagine that you were working already. It"s Sunday morning, and it"s only," - she took a quick glance at the alarm clock that was standing on the desk, - "only seven o"clock and five minutes."
"I"m used to getting up early, dear," - he said, sitting in his chair again. - "you can sit here with me for a while if you like. But I don"t think you will find it very interesting. All I do on Sundays is pure paperwork. What I think you should do today, is have breakfast - the toasts are in the oven, and I think they are still warm - and look around the neighborhood a bit. It"s not very exciting here, but nice and quiet just the way you like it. If you like the idea, you can have a walk and come back home for lunch - I think I will be done with the damn papers until then. And then we"ll figure out something. Ah, and Mai, take your umbrella, it might rain a bit."
"I"ll go and make some breakfast then, papa," - she said. - "Would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?"
"Thank you dear, don"t bother," - replied Vlad, burying himself deep into a pile of papers. - "I drank two cups of coffee this morning already and I think that another one won"t be too good for me. You go and have a nice time. If it gets too cold or too rainy, come back home, your aunt Johanna would get furious at me if she found out that I let you become ill."
The toasts were completely cold already so Maija made some new ones for herself. After eating a pile of toasts and drinking a cup of tea, she was full of energy and ready to go. She became cheerful, and a walk in the early chilly morning seemed very appealing. She pulled on her jacked, picked up a large black umbrella and locked the door behind her. The fresh, moist and chilly wind brought to her nostrils the smell of fallen leaves and of quiet streets after a rain. The houses were still asleep. The neighborhood was covered with a light fog. The chilly air made her tremble. She looked around.
Apparently, the neighborhood was built of houses just like her father"s - large, white houses with grey rooftops, worthy and trustable. Not far away, there could be seen a small hill, covered with trees - probably a park, with benches, alleys and birds. Maybe some retired gentlemen doing their morning exercises. Suddenly, there was something so appealing about that gloomy park that Maija stopped dragging her feet and started walking energetically in the hill"s direction.