Le Petit Moulin
Evelyn Stiasny
“ Next question . Where is the place you feel happiest ?”
“ A place that makes me feel happy ? Hah , maybe …”
That house . The house we visited every year . The sound of people walking on the gravel , cars pulling into the drive and the smell of the outdoors through the windows that don ’ t shut properly . The warmth from the sun making the air thick and the blissful shade providing relief from the heat . I remember our names are written on a tree , marking our heights ; I wonder if it is still there ? I wonder if the playground set out the back of the kitchen is still broken , if the chairs near the pool still scrape against the ground and the paint is still peeling off them . I remember waking up knowing there were pastries on the kitchen table and that the day ahead would be full of lounging next to the pool , or running around trying to find the cat who had made himself at home in the orchard .
That cat . He was an overfed stray cat , befriended by the owner of the house , who sat by the pool every afternoon watching us with his one eye . His white and black fur would be warm from the sun shining and eventually he would sit under a tree , continuing his observation of our daily activities . He was a funny cat . If you managed to pick him up he would scrabble to get to your shoulder and would sit there like a parrot . I remember the mixed feelings we had when we were trusted to take care of him at our home when his previous owners couldn ’ t . I think he missed that house , the fields , the river .