Something happened to him that winter. An experience that changed his life. We had known eachother for a long time. One day he asked me, silencly, to drav a cross. He had found a place.
My answer did not come at once. A yes become something more. I would draw, build and sett up the cross myself; to gain a personal dignity. He accepted.
It took us the spring and a part of the summer before we was ready to rise the cross. It felt strange to travel across the country with parts of a cross on the car. A local fisherman took us out the fjord. We talked about the weather. The boat cuted the silence sea.
Caerefoully we unloaded the boat, a godbye, and the fisherman with his boat left us alone on the small island. That same evening he washed the cross i the clear sea. To sleep underneath the blue sky gives a conferm of the safety of the earth.
The work took us ten days. The sea and the wind was not cooperative. We drilled holes in the hard rock and filled them with dynamite. Yellow-red tounges of fire blowed up the nigth.
Part by part the cross rised. An final push - steel adainst rock - then silence. The cross was rised.
I do not easily say godby to a cross. It's the cross that says godby to me.
Per Olaf Fjeld
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