At that time in Advent

Some doors of our Advent calendar were already open. Our Advent calendar was on the windowsill in our living room. I do not remember how many doors were already open, but the wintry, homey atmosphere in our small living room. Ice crystals were everywhere on the windows. We lived in an old old building. The double windows were leaking. It pulled. Still, it was comfortably warm. The typical smell of the fuel oil from our oven was in the air.

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The visit

My grandparents visited us shortly before Christmas. The two were on the train from Southern Lower Austria travelled to Vienna. This time they had the old Harmonica My mom with me. It was obviously a surprise. For me, who was still in elementary school at the time, and for my even smaller, younger brother and also for our mom.

I will never see the radiant, wet eyes and the irrepressible but silent joy in my mama’s face on that wintry evening. Advent Forgotten.

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The harmonica

Ms Grandfather Asked my mine Momwhether she would still be interested in her old concertina and whether she might want to play with it again?

My mom had learned to play a concertina on this, but she had never played another concertina. My grandparents had bought the harmonica for little money and had it repaired for even less money. My mom (like many other children) grew up in the poorest conditions after World War II.

No, I can’t play anymore. "It’s been so many years since I played the last harmonica," my mom tried to hide her curiosity and also her joy and the inescapable "Come on, don't be like that. Try playing a few notes."Escape my grandfather." We all saw my mother’s eyes shining.

My grandfather took the harmonica out of the trunk and held it in front of my mother: Come on! Give your heart a jolt. Just a few notes. Just a few bars. Just try it.

A medley – a rhapsody

My mom strapped the concertina. She had last played as a teenager before she started nursing school and finally came to Vienna.

She pressed and pulled the bass buttons and bellows before she began to play tentatively on the concertina. Initial single notes grew into short melodies and finally first songs together.

My mom played flawlessly.

Loud, quiet, at least with a lot of feeling and dedication.

Her repertoire ranged from old local songs, folk songs to Christmas carols. Their transitions were fluid.

My mom played without a break.

An unexpected medley in Advent at that time.

An abrupt end

Suddenly my mother stopped playing. She sneaked her old accordion and put her back in the transport case.

We all – my grandparents, my little brother and I – were evacuated.

My mom very definitely said she had no time to play. She also stressed that it would be impossible to play here in our apartment with a musical instrument. Our apartment would be too small. A musical instrument, whatever, would be too loud, even if the instrument was very small, like a flute or a triangle.

The noise – my mum no longer spoke of music – would only disturb and cause headaches. And in no way would a musical instrument or the noise that a musical instrument would bring about be tolerated by our neighbours. This is also the reason why she would not allow us children to learn a musical instrument.

My mom didn't seem to be able to reconcile anymore.

Of course, we had our chance for children and asked them to continue playing on their accordion and teach us children harmonies. In vain.

My mother said that my grandfather would like to sell her accordion, possibly at a very good price, and that he should keep the money. She has no use for it anymore, would not like to know any more about it and thanked them for bringing their accordion back to Vienna.

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