Our fathers were cousins. Born on different continents and in different countries--all because my grandfather made a drastic choice. Angry, he up and left to America without even a parting party or hugs from family. Only his older sister came to the dock to say good-bye.
Imagine the legacy in both countries: the one who left; the one who came.
The immigrant's story--though not always angry and not always alone.
My father's cousin Arthur, whom he wouldn't meet until he was an adult, was a prosperous man. He built a successful business. A big house followed, and a weekend house on the Axalp after that. He helped launch his sons into careers and businesses.
My father, the son of not just one but two immigrants, was born of the same drive. He too was prosperous, but in his own way.
On this day, I meet with my father's cousin's daughter. I am her father's cousin's daughter too.
Vreni, now lives on the Axalp in the vacation home her father built in 1957. Because of his vision, I have come to this cabin today and several times in the last few decades.
But now we are both older women. We understand more deeply. We love more deeply. This allows us to love one another more so than ever before. And today we will hike together.
We've tried for several days. But first we had to cater to all of Vreni's visitors. We eat raclette and reminisce. We shop. My mother's needs are a priority at eighty-eight years old. And finally there is a day where maybe we can hike. But it rains. And then we go to lunch. Tony has joined us and at last Alex, Verni's husband is not the only man. So we tentatively arrange to hike the next day. I will call Vreni first thing in the morning to see if it's raining on the Axalp. The day before, the weather app predicts a down pour.
The next morning is cloudy. But as planned, I call Vreni hoping. Just hoping. Is it a "Yaya," or a "Nein,"
It is a "Ya, ya!" At last we can hike.
Vreni's daughter Nichole, a surgical nurse, surprisingly got a day off. The night before, the hospital cleared a schedule allowing one nurse to have a day off. Nichole calls her mother and tells her she will join us on the Axalp. She can even pick us up in Brienz.
Considering in the days preceding that the chance of rain was 90%, we are relieved when it it only cloudy but not raining.
So off we go on a decades long-awaited hike.
Years earlier, visiting the Axalp with Mom, Dad, and my little sister, Alex took us hiking. But we didn't get far. My ill prepared little sister got dizzy. We turned around.
I am emotional when I follow Vreni, my eighty-one year old distant cousin. We are finally hiking together. She is young at heart. She is vibrant. She is tough from living on the mountain, from hiking in snowshoes from the top of their driveway, to the bottom of the hill a mile away, to reach the car in winter.
As we near the Hinterburgseeli, an alpine lake surrounded by thick forest and soaring cliffs, the clouds thicken. I feel a raindrop on my cheek.
Our upward climb to the lake finally ends. It is downhill now. As we come into the valley, I see blue skies. By the time we see the lake, the sun is in full blossom and the clouds are still parting.
It's as if Vreni's father and my father, knowing we are together, enjoying the lake they used to visit together, have taken opposite sides of the cloudy curtain and pulled it back.
We are here. They are here.
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