⏱ ~4 min reading
Justyna came to her great-grandmother Sofia's house for the whole summer. The house was big, with creaking stairs, a stove as white as winter, and an attic with narrow wooden ladders leading to it. Great-grandmother said that it was better not to climb into the attic because there was dust and spiders there. But that was exactly why Justyna wanted to go there so badly.
One afternoon, when her great-grandmother had gone to work in the garden, Justyna carefully climbed the ladder. She lifted the hatch, stuck her head out, and the warm yellow sun shining through the small round window hit her face.
The attic was like a fairy-tale chest. Old suitcases with copper clasps. A hat with a crumpled ribbon. A glass jar with buttons of all colors. And in the very corner, by the window, stood a wooden cradle. Very old, with carved doves on the side boards. In it lay an embroidered pillow and a small linen blanket.
Justina cautiously stepped towards the cradle. And just then the cradle creaked softly. And then again. And again. It rocked slowly—back and forth, back and forth—as if someone invisible was rocking it.
Justina stopped. Her heart sank somewhere in her heels. There was neither wind nor draft in the attic - the window was tightly closed. And the cradle rocked, rip-rip, rip-rip, calmly and measuredly.
The girl wanted to run downstairs. She had already turned around. But she heard—quietly, as if from afar—a lullaby. No words, just a soft humming that smelled of milk, a warm scarf, and children's hands.
Justina turned around. Above the cradle, in the golden stripe of the sun, stood a little woman. Transparent as glass, with gray hair braided in a braid, and wearing a white linen shirt with a red cross embroidered on the sleeve. She was smiling and rocking the empty cradle.
"Don't be afraid, child," the woman said in a soft voice, warm as fresh bread. "I am the fairy of memory. I live in this cradle.".
“What… are you doing here?” Justina whispered.
"I keep it warm," the fairy replied. "Your great-grandmother slept in this cradle when she was a baby. Then your grandmother. Then your father. And even before that, their mothers and grandmothers. Each baby left a little bit of their dreams here. I collect these dreams, roll them into a ball, and rock them on. Otherwise, the warmth will cool off.".
Justina came very close. Now she saw that in the cradle lay not just a pillow - but a soft golden ball of light, barely breathing.
“Did you rock me too?” Justyna asked.
"Well," the fairy smiled softly. "Your mother brought you here to show you the cradle when you were a month old. You slept for two hours. Here is your dream, you see—that little blue ray in the ball.".
Justyna reached out her finger and barely touched the ball. It was warm, like a great-grandmother's hand when she strokes her head.
"And when everyone grows up and leaves, you'll be lonely here, won't you?" Justyna said sadly.
"It won't," the fairy shook her head. "Because someone always comes. You see, here you are. Now your warmth will stay here too. And one day you will bring your daughter here. Or your son. And there will be someone to rock again.".
Justina sat by the cradle for a long time. The fairy hummed a lullaby softly, and the golden ball inside breathed evenly and sweetly.
When Justyna went downstairs, great-grandmother Sofia was sitting on a bench near a pear tree. She looked at the girl over her glasses and asked:
— Was it in the attic?
Justyna lowered her eyes. Great-grandmother wasn't angry—on the contrary, she smiled in a special, warm way.
“Grandma,” said Justina, “there… there the cradle is rocking by itself.”.
"I know," nodded the great-grandmother. "She's been rocking ever since I can remember. And she was rocking before me. She's our family's good soul. Don't be afraid of her—she loves you more than you think.".
In the evening, when Justyna was going to bed, it seemed to her that somewhere very, very far away, in the attic, a little woman with linen sleeves was softly singing a lullaby. Justyna smiled and fell asleep quickly, quickly, as one falls asleep only when they know that someone is watching over you.
✨ Old things carry the warmth of those who loved them ✨