The Kitchen Can Stay

“So you have really decided,” I said. “You are going.”

Halina nodded and looked into her tea. We were sitting in her kitchen, the same kitchen where we had talked for fifteen years.

“Canada,” she said. “My sister is there. There is a good job. It is a real opportunity.”

“I know,” I said. “But if I were you, I would think about everything you are leaving.”

“I have thought about it. Believe me.”

I did not want to convince her to stay. That was not my right. But I could not help it.

“What about your mother?” I asked. “Who would look after her?”

Halina was quiet for a moment. “My brother would. We talked about it. I would not leave if she had nobody.”

“And what about all of this?” I waved my hand at the room, the street outside, the whole town. “Twenty years of your life is here.”

“That is exactly why I have to go,” she said softly. “If I stayed only because of the past, I would never have a future. My previous life was good. But it is finished.”

I understood. If I had her courage, maybe I would do the same.

“When do you leave?” I asked.

“In three weeks.”

We sat in silence. Outside, it began to rain.

“I will miss this kitchen,” she said.

“I will miss you,” I said. “The kitchen can stay.”

She laughed, but her eyes were wet. So were mine.