I am standing next to you as the shot is fired and the roe dear takes a hit... I want to run up. You say: wait a couple of minutes so that it goes down... 15 minutes later we cut the animal open in the early dawn fog. When we later sit around the fire, with coagulated blood on our hands, and we eat our sandwiches and drink our hot tea, the sun is thawing the October frost... You hit my hat off from behind, laugh out loud and say - you need to pay more attention to what goes on behind your back - I am still your boy...
We have skinned the animal. It's hanging. We are in our long-johns in the kitchen cleaning our weapons. It smells of oil and WD40. I've done this a hundred times and heard it just as many, and you still say: Clean your weapon right and it will last for generations. Once they will be yours, so don't be sloppy. We compare the different weapons and you teach me the art of hunting... I am your boy and recognize that this information is important, so I have to remember...
We cut Austrian smoked lard and sausage and you tell me about a hunt for a red deer with you father in Austria at the beginning of the 1960's... I'm listening, thinking that one day I will live in Kärtnen and just hunt red deer and wild boar. I will be the master-hunter in Austria and live in a nation where people actually speak with one another, laugh and dance, like you say. Sweden is just half as good and Southern Europe, and you say: - never become Swedish... I am 13 years old and your romantic Austria is mine to the full - cause I am your boy...
We are playing cards and you just speak German... When you play cards all of a sudden you don't know any Swedish at all. You have a raw, manly jargon that I love and admire and you laugh and yell loudly. You throw down the cards, slam your hand down on the table and I am thinking: One day I will play cards just like you... I am 13 years old and I almost know all the rules now... This takes place in a time when my whole world was yours, dad... And I just want for you to let me to have a given place in it. I will have a beard and hair on my chest and muscles just like you... Oh how I try to live up to your macho-ideal. You like boxing. I like boxing, but my glasses are in the way. You read the Hunters Journal, of course I read it too, even though I find it sooo boring. I want to fight like you, your stories are so cool. But then when I actually fight, you spank me... Well, well... But I know that you thought that I did well anyhow. I saw it in your eyes before you had to discipline me. I know your look and facial expressions. Beacuse I am your boy.
Dad... All this... Was a long time ago. When your whole world was mine and you were my biggest hero. Today I am sitting here with your weapons... They became mine, just like you said... I just don't know if I ever want to hunt again... Today I feel like I never ever want to pack another backpack. I don't know if I ever want to open, skin or butcher again. I don't know if I ever want to clean my weapons again... Playing cards, well it will not be the same without you. Smoked lard is too salty and fatty without you... I think I am still your boy, just in another world in another time... They say that I inherited your laughter and gestures. Everything seems both distant and so close today... But I am still your boy, and that is how it will always be - forever...
Your Hannes
