Heaven Tastes Like Peaches

Can you tell when the story of two hearts begins? At what point do they start beating in one beat?

If you ask him at what point he fell in love, he won't be able to answer. Love is not easy to recognize. It could have been the first look or the tenth meeting. It could have been the first argument or the second beer they had drunk together.

First love is especially difficult to recognize. So at what point does their love story begin? The moment they met for the first time? When did they first put their lips together?

But at some point the story has to start and the story of Sławek Domejczuk's first love has to begin. Closing one chapter of life and saying goodbye to certain people becomes the beginning of a new chapter in which we meet new heroes. Sławek did not know yet that he would meet someone who would be able to dry his tears. In his sadness, he had no idea that soon the emptiness in his heart would be filled with a feeling he had not expected. Sławek did not think that his story, begun in tears, would bring him a smile. After all, Sławek was a simple boy who had only recently come of age and knew little about adult life. Little did he know that tears dried out kisses better than the wind.

But he would find out soon enough.

However, the story of his happiness begins with an unpleasant event that cannot be avoided in life, although we all want it to.

***

The day was irritatingly beautiful. Not even the tiniest outline of a cloud could be seen in the sky. The scorching sun and the heavy air clearly reminded of the fullness of summer. The insects were buzzing. There was a sound of tractors and combines working in the fields. The whole world seemed to be teeming with life. How strange and a little absurd it seemed to eighteen-year-old Sławek, who was just returning from the cemetery, where he had just buried his last relative.

Many people from the area, not only the old ones, came to the funeral of Sławoj Domejczuk. Sławoj was eighty-four years old and was the pride of the community for over sixty years. His folk sculptures aroused admiration not only here, but also in big cities, where his works were placed in museums and decorated churches. Everyone respected him, so it was a good idea to show up at his funeral.

In fact, all of them, though they pretended to be friendly, were strangers. Neither Sławoj nor his grandson had any friends here. They both lived in an old, wooden house built in the interwar period by Sławek's grandfather's father. The villages have grown enormously since then, but no new houses have grown towards their farm - the old orchard, meadows, grove and farmsteads that had been empty for ten years.

Until his death these lands belonged to Sławoj, who, against the persuasion of people and his own son, did not want to sell even a scrap of it. He always said it would be the legacy of Sławek, his only beloved grandson. It doesn't matter that for decades he lived alone, away from people. This land had belonged to his family for centuries and Sławoj did not want it to pass into foreign hands.

Grandfather certainly had beautiful ideals, but for a penny of practical sense, sighed Sławek, dragging himself glumly in a black mourning shirt.

He thanked the mourners for coming to the cemetery. It was no longer customary to give a wake if the family did not come from far away. Besides, no one expected an eighteen-year-old to do something like this. According to the custom, Sławek stayed in the cemetery until the grave was buried and the churchman laid flowers on it. The boy lit candles, prayed one last time for his grandfather's soul and left with his head bowed.

Three elderly ladies from the local rosary ring who were at the funeral and now were talking about various things at the cemetery fence followed him with their eyes.

"Poor boy! Who will take care of him now?" One lamented shaking her head. "He was left all alone in the world. So young!"

The other waved her hand.

"He can handle it," she said brusquely. "Old Sławoj supposedly did not even get up from bed at the end of his life. He wasn't looking after the boy, the boy, the boy was looking after the old man."

"You don't say?"

"But only for the last few days," said a third. She lived half a kilometer from the Domejczuk family and was the best informed. "The old man was a sign of health. A week ago, I talked to him when he came to us for milk."

"And what? He died so suddenly?" asked first.

"Pancreatic cancer. It didn't hurt so nobody knew he was sick. Only at the end…" She shook her head. "Slawek is a good boy, similar to his grandfather."

"Also so talented?"

"Sławoj said so. I don't know much about art there. I've seen two of his sculptures, but there are some… well, I don't know…"

"Well, well," said the other. "A nice, young boy with a lot of ground and talents. He could marry my granddaughter."

"Do not talk nonsense! Your granddaughter is almost thirty years old!"

"Well, it's time to settle down. They would look nice together. After all, Kaśka is a girl too..."

All three looked after Sławek again. The height of the boy did not stand out. He was a little skinny according to the older ladies, but good cooking would definitely make him more burly. He had very light blonde hair that waved slightly with his every step giving him a special charm. The soft blue eyes made anyone who looked at them feel lighter in heart. In addition, Sławek had a soft but deep voice that awakened the senses of even older ladies. He was maybe a little too cute for a boy, a little too shy, but that only gave him a certain charm. After all, like his grandfather, he was an artist sculptor.

Sławek himself was not aware that he was the subject of quite frequent conversations and matrimonial plans made by older ladies from the neighborhood, and he slowly walked on.

It was a kilometer home. Five hundred meters through the village and another through Grandfather's fields. The asphalt ended with the last buildings of the village, only a dirt road continued. It's a miracle they have electricity and water, he had decided when he moved in permanently three years ago. Three years ago, when his mother died. Father had been dead for five years. Mother had a hard time raising him alone, but she did everything in her power to keep him well-groomed and happy.

They had a difficult financial situation, especially since the woman was ill and could not take up normal paid work. Raised in an orphanage, she could not count on the help of her own relatives, only grandfather Sławoj contributed as much as he could. He even offered to take the boy with him so that his mother could care more for her health, but she refused. Sławoj was old and he would not be able to care for a boy his age, besides his mother did not want to distract him from the school he liked very much and from his friends. And most importantly, she herself did not want to part with him, drawing all the joy of life from his presence.

Of course, an eleven- or twelve-year-old boy did not know all this. He didn't realize they were in financial trouble, or how seriously his mother was. He lived happily, almost carefree. Yes, he missed his father, but his mother did her best to keep his emptiness as small as possible. It was only when, in the middle of the night, when his mother, half bent in pain, opened the door to the paramedics and the doctor, did Sławek begin to realize how bad it really was.

The mother died three days after she was taken to the hospital. She didn't wake up after surgery. The doctor said that after opening her, they understood that there was nothing they could do - the chewing was too serious. She passed away quietly and reportedly painlessly under the influence of anesthetics.

Then his grandfather took him to his home.

Then his new life began.