Lente

In a quiet Flemish village, the gentle arrival of spring finds Aunt Zeunia on her deathbed, her swollen legs and shallow breaths a stark contrast to the brightening fields outside. Her only living relative, the distant niece Leontientje, has not been seen in years, leaving the family tangled in forgotten obligations and uneasy doubts about inheritances. Two of Zeunia’s nephews, Belzemien and Standje, come to offer a brief, uncertain comfort before stepping back into the still‑air of the cottage. Their conversation drifts between the practical—whether to write a letter on her behalf—and the melancholy of years of strained family ties.

Outside, the landscape unfurls in golden‑tinted lanes and singing larks, a vivid reminder of life’s continuity while the household confronts its inevitable ending. Belzemien, the elder brother, carries the weight of responsibility and a reputation for meticulousness, his neat appearance matching his role in the village council. Standje, younger and more carefree, mirrors his brother’s stature but lacks the same polish, hinting at a subtle tension between duty and desire. As they walk the dusty road together, the brothers’ thoughts turn to the fragile balance between memory, obligation, and the uncertain future that awaits their family.