Erinnerungen einer Überflüssigen

She can only recall the first five years of her life, and even those are hazy, except for a cold winter Sunday when fever kept her on the heated couch while the rest of the house stayed icy. Her grandparents move in a ritual of prayer: the grandfather, in a velvet coat, disappears to church, while the grandmother adjusts her black silk veil and whispers hopeful prayers over the child's head. The locked door of the sailor‑grandmother next door and the bitter cold that forces her back inside highlight the stark village atmosphere.

The narrator’s grandfather, called the Handschuster, is a quiet man of many trades—carpenter, mason, painter, even a makeshift veterinarian—who helps anyone without seeking praise. After her illness, they ride together on the ox‑drawn cart to the fields, watching distant mountains and gathering wild flowers. Evenings end with the scent of soup rising from the kitchen as she follows him through the barn, learning the simple rhythms of rural life.