Postkort fra 2041: The Accordion on the Fourth Floor
Kære Trine,
Something good happened today. I have to tell someone.
Mr. Vestergaard on the fourth floor is 88. Welder at the yard for forty years. He has not stood up on his own since March. This morning he asked me to get the accordion down from the top of the wardrobe.
I said it weighs nine kilos. He said he knows exactly what it weighs.
So I put on the lifting vest — the new one, the thin kind, you can wear it under the uniform now — and I got him up. And he stood. Not long. Maybe two minutes. But he stood in his own living room with the balcony doors open and he played something I did not know, and the wind came in off the sound and moved the curtains.
Then he sat down and said: that is enough of that.
The wall screen was on. His daughter in Oslo saw the whole thing. She cried. I did not, but only just.
My feet hurt. I do not care today.
Give the boys a kiss from me. Tell them their mormor had a good Tuesday.
Mor
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