Un article un peu particulier aujourd’hui : mère de deux enfants bilingues et ayant vécu pendant 3 ans aux États-Unis, je crois que je peux dire que je suis désormais bilingue !
Actually, I think I can write in English too (well, my English vocabulary is really poor compared to my French one !). Anyway a friend of mine was so upset not to be able to understand my posts that he asked me to make one just for him ! So, Adam, this one is for you ! 😉
But I also want to dedicate this text to all my American (and English-speaking !) friends who support me, each one with their own way !
Thank you so much !
Here is a story I wrote during my online course « Start Writing Fiction » (for those who want to learn more : http://www.futurelearn.com/).
[Note : I am completely aware that this text is not perfect and is probably full of mistakes… but I am pretty sure you will understand the point and it is the most important thing !]
Five minutes in a life time
Five more minutes and he will be dead. That was what the last nurse said. Five minutes don’t mean anything when you are going to die. It can be very long because you are waiting, or very short because you don’t want the end of it.
He was lying on his bed, as usual. Nurses and doctors were going back and forth. He was a huge socket, so many pipes had been plugged all around him. They just have removed everything. It was time to go now. Thanks to all these machines he could still be alive. Funny. He had still five minutes – well less now ! and he thought that he could have died before that. He was the richest man in the world with his few minutes left.
He didn’t even remember how he came here. He could remember faces but nothing else. There were always two women coming to visit him. Never at the same time. They were speaking to him, well, to John and he supposed it was him. They were always sorry about everything that they had done. Always sobbing… it was so boring. It had been two months that he was like that. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. First he was depressed but at one point he just accepted his new life. It was a very busy one actually with all the visits of the nurses and the doctor. But the visit that he liked the most was this little boy. He didn’t know his name. He was sneaking to be sure that nobody was seeing him. Then he would take place on the chair near the bed and grab the book from his backpack. And with his little voice, he would read « The little Prince » of Saint-Exupéry.
Funny ! He remembered the name of this author. It was a very good moment. This little guy was sometimes struggling to read a sentence properly. He was always whispering. He didn’t want to be caught. One day, when a nurse came in, he hid under the bed between all the pipes and the machines ! When he went out, he said he was sorry, he didn’t want to be interrupted. He was a nice little boy. He never told him why he was doing that.
Three minutes? maybe two ?
He could have believed that he was dreaming this little boy. Actually he looked like the little prince of the book with his blond hair. But he was real because each time he left he would always grab his left hand tightly. This small gesture was full of… many things. It said « take care » and « I love you » and « hang on » and « I understand » and… Will he see this little boy again before he died ? He wanted to. He wanted to see him and to tell him how good the moments that they spent together were. He wanted now to tell him that if he was leaving it was not because of him. He wanted to tell him… how much he loves him…
He was crying. He couldn’t help it. He closed his eyes. He thought that death would be a relief but it was an awful pain. His chest hurt, his shoulders were moving by themselves under the flow of his emotion. He tried to open his mouth to breathe by himself to be able to push out this terrible feeling. He let out a faint moan. Time is over, he is about to go now.
He felt the grab of this little hand again and opened his eyes full of tears. The little boy was here. A nurse came in at that moment but this time the little boy didn’t hide. He jumped on the bed and gave the man a hug. The weight and the warmth of this little body were so unexpected and so delicious. He tried to speak again but all the sounds that came from his mouth were intelligible. Happiness was flowing in his entire body. He remembered. The train bumping into his car. He couldn’t do anything. There was a huge blackout.
He remembered also the afternoon before this accident. A nice cake, lots of kids, rainbow garland, a birthday party… and the little gift he gave to this boy : a book.
The boy whispered : « I am glad you are back Grand Pa ! »
