For as long as I can remember, I have always lived and died for the vine. Even today, I still believe that God has created no fruit like it. If I could have it, as I cannot, I would never eat soft bread without grapes.
Even as a child, my greatest joy was when my father would tap me on the shoulder:
- Saddle up, lad, we're going out to Galambos. We'll see if the grapes are in bloom.
Well, the saddling was soon done. All I had to do was pull my boots off my feet. It was an hour and a half's walk to the Pigeon vineyard, but it wouldn't have taken three hours in boots: that's how much sand you had to wade through.
By the time we got there, the shepherd had already stepped over his shadow: the pigeon-herders were ringing the del. My father took a loaf of bread from his striped pouch, twisted off a loaf of bread, and pressed it into my hand.
- Come on, let's go and find some grapes for it, if the vines haven't already been harvested.
- Just out, just out, just out! - the troops shouted angrily as soon as they saw us.
We have been plucked from our own vineyard by the insolent. But my father was very good with their language. In response, he threw a grapeskin in their midst, and all at once the army of thieves went up in smoke.
There was a great silence, only the big leafy vine branches were bobbing around us, proudly showing off their smiling bunches.
- 'Look at this red dinky,' my father boasted, 'the dawn would be ashamed of it.
But the dawn never saw it again, because by the time we got to the end of the pass, all that was left was the tip of its tail.
- "Well, this white Bavarian," my father continued to point, "there's no honey that can match it.
I myself have made sure that white Bavarian grapes are sweeter than honey.
I didn't leave a bunch of them on the vine.
- But you have to try that black kadarka! You've never eaten one in your life.
I didn't offer myself much, but started with the musty white, now without bread. But I no longer had any appetite for the rose noodles. I was very full of grapes. It was no use my father boasting about the red grapes with their smell, the pomegranate with its plump eyes, the sweet bakator: I didn't even look at them.
- It's no good, father, if there are no grapes between them.
- What does that grow on?
- Well, in the story, Father.
- Oh, my child, long ago was the time when I was in fairyland. But stop, while we turn the colts homeward, and I will find thee a vine so solo that thou shalt be grieved at the speech.
I was lulled to sleep by the smell of grapes, the buzzing of bees, the crickets chirping, but this promise suddenly knocked the sleep out of my eyes. Oh, what a joy it will be to show off to my mates tomorrow:
- Look at me, children, I've eaten grapes solo!
The sun was about to kiss the tips of the poplars goodbye when my father says to me:
- Do you hear, my servant, it will be well for you to be on your way now. I'll take another detour to the godfathers' vineyard. But put your foot well in your palm, that I may not be home before you.
- What about the solo grape? - I asked, frightened.
- A' is true! Promise: debt.
At the end of our hut, an orphaned grape vine was crippled. Its leaves are tiny, its fruit is sparse, its grapes are wretched, they call it parsley vine. From this my father had plucked a head of grapes.
- Here are the solo grapes," he said with a smile, but I suddenly felt like crying.
- It's just parsley grapes. It's a vile variety. So hard you could shoot a rabbit with it.
- Don't worry about it, sonny. Your sister Jutka will thank you for this, too, if you take it home to her. You know how much she's been nagging us to get her some bird's-eye grapes.
- But this is not a solo vine! - I tearfully teared up.
- "He'll get over it," my father said seriously. - 'You'll see how it tells me tonight whether you're a dutiful child. He'll even tell me if you love your sister.
I started walking home with the grapes, but I was walking with the sadness of a man with a bloody nose. On the old walnut-tree the dragonfly was waddling, and called to me with a great cheerful cry:
- Do you have nuts, million, do you need nuts, boy?
In my anger, I threw in the parsley vines.
- Eat your nuts if you can't tell where the solo grapes grow!
As I came out of the vineyards onto the highway, I sat down to rest on the grass verge. I was tired, and thirsty: I took a sip of parsley grapes.
- "Nini," I said, "it's not so bad. But it would be too sour for Yutka.
The second eye was even better, and then I didn't even think about reading them. I was just about to enter our small door when I bit the last stitch. I had nothing left in my hand but the empty bundle.
My father did indeed beat me to it. My sister Jutka was sitting on the doorstep, clapping her two little hands in his lap.
- "Where does your brother Ferko bring you the grapes?" my father said to him.
In my shame, I dropped the grape vine from my hand. My father picked it up and laid it in the palm of his hand.
- Vines, tell me, is my son Ferko a dutiful boy, whom I ordered to bring home the grapes to his little sister?
I was about to go underground when my father spoke again:
- Solo Grapes, tell me if this child loves his little brother. Well, Ferko, is the parsley vine a solo vine?
I'm huddled in the corner of the room, and probably wouldn't have come out even now if I could fit in. And I never boasted to my mates that I had eaten grapes solo.
