Amber and Nathalies world

It was a Saturday like many before. The sky was gray, there was no sun, but it was dry—just the right weather for Mario to work outside in the garden. Amber and I sat comfortably on the couch in the living room. We chatted about trivial things, laughed occasionally, and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the day.

From outside, we heard the steady hum of the lawnmower, the clinking of tools, the scratching of the rake on the ground. All of this was familiar to us. We felt safe and comfortable in the secure rhythm of our everyday life. And whenever Mario appeared in front of the window or the patio door, we blew him a kiss cheerfully and giggled fervently, regardless of whether he noticed us or not. Then we leaned back again with a relaxed sigh and imagined what the evening would be like. An evening like every other Saturday evening—and yet not in the least bit monotonous or boring. It was the now familiar feeling of carefree, cheerful togetherness that we were once again looking forward to.

After a while, we heard the front door open. Mario came in, sweaty, his hair damp from exertion, his clothes covered in dirt and grass stains. He took a deep breath, put his tools in the basement, and immediately disappeared into the bathroom. We could hear the shower running. Water droplets splashed wildly on the floor.

Amber and I exchanged a quick glance—a silent agreement. Soon he would return to us refreshed and radiant, sit down among us exhausted after his work, and stay with us for a while before starting to prepare dinner.

But when Mario returned, he was holding something in his hands that astonished us: a comb and a brush. Normally, this meant that he would sit down with us and lovingly comb our hair, arranging it until every strand was perfect. But this time it was different. He went straight to the study, fetched his camera bag, and stowed the comb and brush in it along with the camera.

Amber frowned, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. A photo shoot? Yes, that explained the camera. But what were the comb and brush doing in the bag? It didn’t make any sense.

We were still puzzling over this when Mario went upstairs to the dressing room. Shortly afterwards, he came back downstairs – changed. He was wearing fresh clothes, the kind he usually only wore when he left the house. He looked determined, almost solemn. He took the backpack, brought it outside and packed everything into the car.

Then he came back. His eyes were fixed on me, and his voice was calm but filled with a warmth that immediately touched my heart. “Nathalie, would you like to come with me? Sit in the passenger seat. We’re going on a trip.”

I held my breath. A trip? Me? Out into the world for the first time? My heart was racing.

But no sooner had I realized that he meant me than he turned to Amber. He said gently, “Please forgive me. Today I’m only taking Nathalie with me.”

Amber’s eyes widened. She was confused, then a shadow flitted across her face. A spark of envy, of sadness. The thought that Mario might prefer me to her lay like a silent weight between us. But she just nodded, quietly, almost imperceptibly, and avoided Mario’s gaze. I could sense her inner struggle. My joy was accompanied by a slight pang of guilt at that moment. Amber gently took my hand. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze spoke volumes. “Go on, have a great time.” I squeezed her hand.

A little later, I was sitting in the passenger seat. For the first time in my life, I saw the world through a car window. We drove across country, through forests, on wide highways, along narrow roads. The world was so big, so colorful, so full of sounds and impressions. I couldn’t stop marveling.

Finally, we stopped at a small stream. Mario led me out, we ducked under a bridge and followed a dirt road. An old gate creaked as we passed through it. Even from a distance, I could hear voices. People. Laughter. Words.

Then I saw it: a small house, people in front of it—and dolls in their midst.

They greeted us warmly, full of joy.

I was overwhelmed. For the first time, I was among people. For the first time among dolls that weren’t Amber. Everything was new. Everything was big. I marveled at the garden, the trees, the bushes. One of the men present pushed a chair toward me. I was about to sit down when he signaled me to wait a moment—and quickly fetched a seat cushion. “This is much more comfortable,” he said. I smiled—because that was all I could manage. All these new impressions were too overwhelming, raining down on me like a meteor shower in those moments.

After a while, Mario asked me to follow him. Together with the men, we went to an old water basin overgrown with reeds. They gently helped me, placed another cushion on the edge of the basin, made sure I could sit down safely—and generally took care of my well-being. Meanwhile, Mario unpacked his camera.

“So, another photo shoot,” I thought happily.

The camera clicked again and again. I moved around, found poses, laughed, let the wind blow through my hair. And here—under the open sky… surrounded by nature… for the first time in my life, I felt so much—so beautiful, so alive. So free. I ran my hand through the grass. I had never felt grass before.

Later, we returned. The barbecue was lit and the smell of juicy burgers was in the air. Lemonade cooled our throats. There was talking, laughing, the air vibrated with life.

But Mario had more in mind. After dinner, he asked me to come with him again. We went to a tree with an old wooden ladder. Once again, the men helped me. One of them even took a cloth out of his pocket and placed it under my elbows. “That way, the wood won’t scratch and prick you so much,” he said. I gave him a grateful smile. And then the camera clicked again and again. The others also took out their cameras, took pictures, and admired me. I felt like I was in a dream. But in the middle of the dream, I thought of Amber. How was she doing? I wished she were here. She would have loved this day.

When we returned to the house, I sat down in the garden. The sun was setting, and the wind played with my hair. A doll sat down next to me. She introduced herself as Maria. We started talking, laughing, and sharing stories. She said she had been living here for a long time. And in her blue eyes, I saw the same joy and zest for life that I was feeling in those moments. While Mario talked to the men, I lost myself in this conversation. For the first time, I felt that I could find a friend outside our house.

And while we were chatting happily, I suddenly realized that it had long since grown dark. Mario said it was time to go back. I said goodbye to Maria with a heartfelt hug and finally joked, “Would someone like to carry me?” And before I knew it, one of the men brought out a wheelbarrow and Mario helped me into it. “Hold on tight,” said Mario. “Here we go!” And so he pushed me along the dirt road in the wheelbarrow, while I giggled happily. And then, shortly afterwards, I was back in the car.

The night was ablaze with light. Cars drove by, tunnel lights flashed, distant lights glowed. I stared out, unable to close my mouth in amazement. But eventually the lights blurred, the sounds softened, and my eyes closed.

It felt like I had been asleep for hours when Mario gently shook me and said, “We’re almost home.” Those words echoed inside me. An indescribable feeling of warmth spread through my chest. “We.” “Home.” I realized the meaning of these words—and they sounded so infinitely beautiful and right to me. Not lost. Not alone. But us. A home that was all of our homes. A home full of love. I saw our house approaching through the windshield of the car. Soft lights shone from inside. I knew these lights. Every evening they turned on and spread a cozy atmosphere throughout the house. But now I was seeing all this from the outside for the first time. And while I already knew how cozy it felt inside the house, I now noticed this inviting and welcoming environment that I can call my home—our home.

Mario drove into the driveway and opened the door for me, the front door. I rushed inside, straight into Amber’s arms. We embraced each other wordlessly, holding each other as if we never wanted to let go.

Mario parked the car, came over, and sat down next to us. “Forgive me, Amber,” he said quietly. “I’ll take you with me someday, too.”

Amber smiled weakly, her eyes slightly reddened. “Yes, I was sad. But I also remember the terrace, with you and the stray cat. Back then, Nathalie was the one who had to stay inside. We can’t always experience everything together. And yet—we are one.” Mario hugged her for a long time, full of warmth.

Later, Mario had already gone to bed. Amber and I stayed on the couch. She asked curiously what I had experienced. But I was too tired, too overwhelmed. I snuggled into her arms, my eyes half closed.

“I love you so much, Amber,” I murmured barely audibly before sleep took me back into its arms. And with it, a dream flooded me with a flood of images and memories. Memories of a day full of wonder, amazement, gratitude, and love. Memories of a day I will never forget.