Memories

Mar 27, 2024

In 2001, the Water Polo European Championship was held in Budapest. I have no idea why my father acquired tickets for the matches since we had never attended sporting events before. We mostly just played sports ourselves but never sat in the stands.

Yet, that year, for reasons unknown to me, I found myself sitting in the stands. The atmosphere was fantastic; every time the Hungarians attacked, the crowd roared "Go Hungarians!", and when the opponents attacked, the whole stand rhythmically chanted, "Defend! Defend!" I still get chills thinking about those days.

We were lucky, as Hungarian water polo has been legendarily good for almost a century, so one can be sure that watching a Hungarian match means expecting a high-quality, enjoyable game. That year, the men's team won a bronze medal, and the women's team won the tournament. It was an incredible experience to witness! Such a tremendous experience that to this day, water polo tournaments are the only ones I follow. If I can, I watch the matches on TV and cheer and argue with the referees so loudly that our more sensitive dogs always jump around me excitedly, as if something were wrong with me. They too pick up on the tension in my nerves. It's a wonderful experience every time the boys or the girls win a tournament, as they grab the national coach in their joy and throw him into the water.

Neither before nor since have I sat at a live sporting event in the stands, but as almost always, now too, as the World Championship is happening in Doha, I try to organize my days so that I can watch the live broadcast.

Perhaps watching that European Championship in 2001 was the last time I could be carefree with my father, which is why I feel such a strong connection to water polo, unlike any other sport, at least as a spectator.

Since then, a lot of water has flowed down the Danube, many events have unfolded, and my family of origin has essentially fallen apart, after which I spent several years trying to understand what happened and to ease the tension that flared up from time to time. Fortunately, I experienced my parents' divorce as an adult, but navigating who is with whom in the family, who among friends stands by whom, and who is willing to talk to whom in a whirlwind of changes in my own life was not easy as a child moving between my two parents. The parents' divorce invariably shakes a person's life, impacting them more profoundly during childhood or teenage years than in adulthood. The many tangled, confused relationships that suddenly have to be separated to form two families from the previous one, finding balance amidst frequent mutual blaming, accepting or not accepting the third party if there is one, the responsibility one feels as a child towards the parent deemed weaker, more innocent, poses a serious challenge at any age, not just as a little child.

And what often follows a divorce, starting and shaping the dynamics in a blended family setup, well, it takes a strong person to navigate through that chaos. With the myriad new situations and the thin ice dance of peace, I hardly had a chance to pay attention to my own feelings. I was happy if somehow, through combined efforts, some kind of new order emerged from the chaos.

Eventually, after the turbulent years, things calmed down, I graduated from university, started working, entered a new relationship, and began to delve more into psychology. As my life progressed, one job led to another, then a new relationship, a proposal, wedding, new career path, and so I stopped thinking about those years.

While watching the match against the Italians on TV, which ended in a hard-fought but brilliant victory for the men's water polo team, I felt down despite their wonderful performance. At first, I didn't understand what got into me, since the Hungarian team made it to the quarter-finals, moreover with such incredible perseverance and heart that they can be proud of for the rest of their lives. But I was sad.

As is my habit when confused by my feelings, I retreated to the bedroom, sat in my armchair, and pulled the thick, soft faux fur blanket over myself. As I sat there, I realized that over the past twenty years, I had completely forgotten someone. Someone to whom I owe a great deal, yet I never afforded the opportunity to express her feelings, shed her tears, and share her story.

The girl in her early twenties, whom I was back then, kept her spirits up, navigated my fragile boat across the turbulent river, and skillfully avoided the sharpest, most fatal rocks — if not all. She smiled even when she wanted to cry, tried to ease others' conflicts and pain, and somehow kept her cargo (studies, relationships, health, friendships) more or less intact in the belly of the ship. Well, I indeed forgot about her.

To cross the flowing river as quickly as possible, I jumped out of the boat the moment it ran aground, leaving her behind in the ship's hold, in a dark corner amidst a sea of swirling feelings. Without looking back, I ran forward and have not returned to the ship since.

I was ashamed of myself and so ventured back to the riverbank, which this time showed its calmer face. The boat, tilted to its side, waited. I approached it trembling, fearing that all my feelings would stir up again. As I slowly, cautiously climbed onto the rotted deck, a plank broke under my foot. From the belly of the ship, I heard a grumpy growl, but I decided to gather my courage and proceed.

It was only with difficulty that I managed to open the cabin door; I wrestled with it for a while before the rotten frame gave way. As I opened the creaking door, I saw a pale, hollow-faced figure in the semi-darkness. My former self stared at me blankly. I couldn't read any emotion in her eyes, which frightened me. I began to back away slowly, and she followed me into the light even more slowly. Squinting, blinking, and as she reached the open air, into the cockpit, she slumped onto one of the benches.

Minutes passed, and she just sat there, turning her face towards the sun with closed eyes. I expected her to attack me at any moment, to start shouting and stomping, furious for locking her up and cruelly leaving her alone. But she didn't. She did nothing but enjoy the sunlight. Then, after about ten minutes, she opened her eyes but didn't look at me. She stared rigidly at the river.

I didn't dare to speak, just silently let the tears roll down my cheeks. All the feelings I had locked up with her in the belly of that ship seemed to have flowed into me and wanted to burst out all at once. I felt anger, rage, shame, pain, disappointment, hurt, despair. All at once, so intensely that I could barely breathe. It felt as if a huge hole had been punched in the middle of my chest. I gasped for air and almost fainted as my tears fell.

My younger self looked at me, but in her eyes, I saw not a desire for revenge or hatred but pity and understanding. Through my tears, I stared at her bewildered. How could she not hate? How could she not seek revenge on me? How could she not be angry? I was puzzled, yet she smiled as if reading my thoughts. Just as she had heard my thoughts, now I heard hers in my head: "It's good that you came back for me," then she hugged me.

– Eszter

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