The Storks of Vendegi: 1911

This weeks post is another one written for my fiction class. It was inspired by my grandfather and some of the stories he had of growing up and the traditions of his Hungarian heritage. 

The Storks of Vendegi: 1911

By Anna Rohaly

“Joseph!” I turned to see my Apa hastily walking towards me. I thought I was in trouble until I saw his face. He looked worried with his wild, bushy eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down slightly.

“The storks, the golyak, are coming today with the new baby for your Anya and me,” He knelt down in front of me so that I could look into his fierce blue Hungarian eyes. “Can I trust you to do a very important job, Joseph?” He was very serious and I nodded quickly to show him that as his son I could be trusted even if I was only five. 

“I need you to get your older sister Anya and go to the river and watch for the golyak flying to our house with the baby,” He patted my head with his rough, calloused hand. “I am counting on you Joseph. Now, go get Anya!”

I nodded and ran to find my sister in the big field behind our house. Our house is shaped like the big letter “L” and is on the outskirts of Vendegi Hungary. It is close to the border of Slovakia and whenever my Apa and his friends talk, I hear them talking about the borders changing. I do not know what that means, but they say if there is ever a war that we might turn into Slovaks, or Szlovákok. 

I see Anya, silhouetted by the big purple mountains that surround our Hungarian valley. Her hands are full of flowers and she is singing softly to herself. Impatient, I ran to her.

“Anya!” I yelled, “The golyak are bringing the baby! Papa needs us to go down to the river and watch for them!”

Grabbing my hand, Anya begins to skip with me to where the river flows out from Vendegi's little street. Vendegi only has one street, which splits in the middle of the town for the old church with its giant white steeple. I always think that the steeple looks like the lances of old knights. Anya says though, that I should not think like that about God's house or a snake will come and catch me and take me away. I still think it looks like a lance though.

Anya points to the bank before us, lined sparingly with big trees to climb. Together we sit in the shade of one of the trees, playing with the grass. Anya makes a crown of flowers for our Anya and tries to get me to help her. That is a girl's game and soon I retreat to the banks to find rocks.

Soon I am throwing rocks into the sparkly waters and listening to the loud spah-lunk as my big rocks hit the surface. Clenching my hands into fists, I jump up and down laughing before scrambling over to another portion of the creeks bed for more rocks.

“Joseph, have you checked the sky?” Anya would call to me, sitting on the bank still decked in more and more flowers. I would turn to face the north mountains and stare into the brilliant blue sky. Nothing. Swiveling around I'd face the west mountains and glare into the bright sunshine. No golyak. No storks. I looked the south mountains and then the eastern mountains. Still no golyak.

So our day passed, me throwing rocks and splashing in the shallow waters of the creek and my sister weaving flowers, only pausing only to drink from the stream. The sun began to set and the yellow sun turned orange and made all of the grassy fields and tree leaves and mountain tops look as if someone had turned them into gold. I began to grow tired of throwing rocks and watching for the golyak as the stars began to shine and the moon peeked over the mountains.

I yawned and as I did, I heard a faint shout. Apa was calling to us.

“Joseph! Anya! Come home!” He yelled, “You did not see the golyak in the dark and your sister Maria is here! Come home!”

Anya and I stare at each other. We had missed the golyak! Together we ran again through the tall grasses to our house at the edge of Vendegi to find our new little brother Ferenc.

Years later, I hear the midwife coming up the stairs to help my own wife, Julia. As she passes, I catch sight of my son, Willy out in the front yard playing with a stick. He plays by himself, now that his older brother has died. My wife cries out from our bedroom and Willy's head looks towards the house. Walking out across the porch I go and kneel down next to him.

“Hey Willy,” He looks up at me with his big blue Hungarian eyes. “Can I trust you to do a very important job?”