Departure from the Apartment

It was a quiet Sunday morning in Vilnius. The sun filtered through the pale curtains of their apartment, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor.

Julia was in the small kitchen, tying her hair back as she poured hot water into a thermos. On the dining table sat a paper bag with some pastries Elena had brought them the day before—still slightly warm when she handed them over with a smile.

Emma was at the coat rack, wrapping her scarf twice around her neck even though the late spring air was mild. There was something in the silence that made them move slowly, like preparing for something sacred, though neither said so aloud.

They had agreed to meet Elena at 9:30. She would drive them to a small monastery on the outskirts of the city—one Elena had visited decades ago, when visiting such places meant risk, not reverence. As they stepped out, the old hallway of the 19th-century building creaked beneath their steps. The door clicked shut behind them, and the city seemed to exhale.

Outside, the morning light made the cobblestone shimmer faintly. A few birds called from the red-tiled rooftops. When Elena’s silver car turned the corner, both Emma and Julia instinctively waved before she even rolled down the window.

從公寓出發

在維爾紐斯的週日早晨，整個城市還像是包裹在一層薄霧般的靜謐裡。陽光透過她們公寓窗前的白色窗簾，斜斜落在木地板上，映出柔和而暖淡的光。

Julia 在廚房裡繫起頭髮，一邊將熱水倒入保溫瓶。

餐桌上放著一個紙袋，裡面是 Elena 前一天送來的小點心——她遞過來時還微微溫熱，臉上帶著溫柔的笑。Emma 則在門口套圍巾，雖然晚春的天氣其實並不寒冷，但這份動作像是儀式的一部分，無聲地為某段安靜旅程做準備。

她們約好九點半與 Elena 會合，由她開車帶她們前往一座位於城郊的小修道院。那是 Elena 年輕時曾去過的地方，在那個時代，拜訪那裡不是出於敬仰，而是某種私密的冒險。她們走出門，十九世紀老建築的樓梯在腳下吱呀作響。門輕輕地關上時，彷彿整座城市也輕輕地吐出一口氣。

屋外，石板路面在陽光下反射出淡淡的光澤。遠處的屋頂上傳來幾聲鳥鳴。當 Elena 的銀色車子從街角轉進來時，Emma 和 Julia 幾乎是下意識地揮了揮手，車窗還沒搖下，他們就已經在微笑了。

The Drive Out of the City

Elena drove with both hands loosely on the wheel, her posture relaxed yet attentive, like someone who had followed this same road a hundred times. The silver car hummed steadily as it moved through the quiet Sunday streets.

Emma sat in the front passenger seat, looking out the window as the red-roofed houses gave way to rows of pine and birch trees. Julia sat in the back, her cheek resting lightly on the cool glass, eyes tracing the slow passing of clouds.

The transition from city to countryside was subtle but steady. Cracked sidewalks turned into gravel shoulders, and the buildings became fewer, their facades worn but quietly dignified.

Small garden plots flanked some homes, bordered by low wooden fences with early lavender already in bloom. They passed a small roadside stand selling bundles of dill and jars of pickled beets; no one was manning it, just a tin box for coins and a handwritten sign.

“I used to come this way with my grandmother,” Elena said softly, eyes still on the road. “We never told anyone where we were going. Just… ‘for a walk,’ we’d say.”

Emma turned toward her. “Were you scared?”

Elena shook her head gently. “I don’t think I understood enough to be scared. I just knew it was something we didn’t talk about. But when we arrived, I always felt… safe. Like the silence inside the monastery made everything outside less noisy.”

A long stretch of fields opened up beside them. Golden-green and rippling in the light wind, the land looked half-asleep. Hay bales dotted the distance like punctuation marks. Birds skimmed the tips of the grass, and a lone stork stood in the shallows of a narrow stream.

Julia, still watching from the back seat, said quietly, “It reminds me of Canada. Certain parts. But it feels… closer, somehow.”

Elena smiled faintly. “It’s not a big country. Things tend to stay within reach here.”

駛離城市

Elena 開車時，雙手鬆鬆地握著方向盤，姿勢安穩而自然，就像她已經走過這條路上百次一樣。銀灰色的車子平穩地穿過寧靜的週日街道。

Emma 坐在副駕，靜靜望著窗外，紅瓦屋頂逐漸退去，取而代之的是一排排松樹與白樺。Julia 坐在後座，臉頰輕靠著車窗，目光緩緩追隨著天空飄動的雲影。

從城市進入鄉間的轉換並不劇烈，但極為細膩。路邊的人行道裂縫中長出雜草，住宅變得稀疏，牆面斑駁卻保有一種沉靜的尊嚴。

有些房子前種著小花園，矮木籬笆裡的早春薰衣草已經開了一些紫色小花。她們經過一個小小的路邊攤，擺著幾把蒔蘿和幾罐醃甜菜，沒有人看守，只留著一個鐵盒收錢與一張手寫紙條。

「我以前常跟祖母走這條路，」Elena 說，眼睛仍看著前方，「我們從不說要去哪，只說：‘去散個步。’」

Emma 轉過頭，「妳會害怕嗎？」

Elena 微微搖頭。「我那時還小，根本不懂什麼是害怕。我只知道，有些事不可以講。但每次到了修道院，我就會覺得——安全。那裡的安靜，讓外面的世界好像也不那麼吵了。」

一大片田野在她們車旁展開。金綠交錯的草地在風中微微起伏，像一張未完成的畫布。遠方有幾卷乾草堆，像標點一樣靜靜躺著。幾隻鳥掠過草尖，一隻鸛孤零零地站在小溪邊的淺水處。

Julia 繼續望著窗外，低聲說：「有點像加拿大的某些地方，但這裡…感覺更近一點。」

Elena 笑了一下。「立陶宛不大，很多東西都還在範圍內。」

Approaching the Monastery

The road began to narrow as they continued, turning from paved asphalt into an uneven gravel path lined with low-growing wildflowers. The hum of the tires changed, becoming softer, as if the land itself were cushioning their arrival. The forest on either side closed in just slightly—not in a way that felt oppressive, but rather intimate, like being ushered into a quiet room.

Ahead, a small wooden sign appeared, its paint faded but still legible: Ramybės Prieglobstis — “Sanctuary of Quiet.” Elena slowed the car and took a turn through a break in the tree line. Beyond it lay a meadow with tall grasses swaying in the breeze, and at the edge of the clearing stood a low stone building with a red-tiled roof and ivy clinging to its walls.

Emma leaned forward. “It looks like it hasn’t changed in decades.”

“It hasn’t,” Elena said, her voice quiet now. “They never needed it to.”

As the car rolled to a stop near a wooden gate, Julia reached for her camera but paused. The way the light hit the stones, the silence around them—it felt wrong to interrupt it with a shutter. Instead, she stepped out and took a deep breath. The air smelled of pine, damp earth, and something older. Something remembered.

接近修道院

道路漸漸變窄，柏油消失，取而代之的是坑坑疤疤的碎石小徑，兩旁長著低矮的野花。車胎的聲音也變得柔和，好像大地在用某種方式接住她們的到來。兩側的樹林也慢慢靠近，但那不是壓迫，而是一種像被輕輕引導進靜室的親密感。

前方出現一塊木頭指示牌，油漆早已剝落，但字還能辨識：Ramybės Prieglobstis——「寧靜的庇護所」。Elena 放慢車速，轉入樹林中的一條岔路。轉角處，一片開闊的草地迎了上來，高高的野草隨風搖曳，在草地邊緣，有一棟矮矮的石屋，紅瓦屋頂上爬滿了常春藤。

Emma 向前傾著身體，「這裡看起來幾十年都沒變過。」

「的確沒變過，」Elena 輕聲說，「她們從來不需要它變。」

車子在木門前停下時，Julia 拿起相機，但沒有立刻拍照。那光線打在石牆上的樣子，那四周的靜默——像是不該被快門聲打破的節奏。她選擇先下車，深深吸了一口氣。空氣裡混著松木、濕土，還有一種更古老的氣味。像是某種被記得的東西。

Entering the Courtyard

The wooden gate creaked softly as Elena pushed it open. A narrow stone path unfolded before them, framed by herbs and low flowers that seemed to have been growing there for decades without intervention—lavender, sage, a few untamed rose bushes. The air inside the walls felt stiller, yet gentler, as though sound had softened its edges out of reverence. A cat darted across the path and vanished into the shrubs. Somewhere nearby, a wind chime gave a muted chime.

They moved slowly, as if not to disturb something invisible. The building itself was modest—two wings of old stone joined at a simple chapel in the middle, its wooden door worn silver-gray with age. Ivy framed the windows, and small carved crosses stood at the ends of the eaves.

A woman appeared from one of the side doors. She wore a pale gray habit and a navy blue cardigan, her sleeves slightly rolled up. In one hand she held a wicker basket of herbs, and with the other, she tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear.

“Good morning,” she said with a warm, unhurried smile. “You must be Elena’s friends.”

走進修道院庭院

木門在 Elena 推開時輕輕發出一聲吱呀聲。眼前是一條細長的石板小徑，兩旁長著似乎幾十年來都未曾修剪過的香草與低矮花叢——薰衣草、鼠尾草、幾叢野玫瑰。牆內的空氣安靜而溫柔，像是聲音也在這裡變得更輕了，彷彿出於敬意。一隻貓從她們腳邊竄過，很快就消失在灌木之中。某個角落，風鈴微微響了一下，聲音細得像一滴水。

她們慢慢往前走，像怕驚動了什麼無形的東西。整棟建築低調而古老，兩側是石造的長廊，中間接著一座小教堂，木門早已被歲月磨得泛出銀灰色。常春藤攀滿窗沿，屋簷角落還雕著幾個小小的十字架。

一位女士從側門走出來，穿著淺灰色修道服，外頭披著一件藏藍色羊毛開襟衫，袖子微微捲起。一手提著一籃新摘的藥草，另一手則將垂落的灰髮撥到耳後。

「早安，」她笑著，語調溫緩，「妳們是 Elena 的朋友吧？」

A Quiet Conversation

Elena stepped forward with a gentle smile.
“It’s really good to see you, Sister Alda. I wasn’t sure you still lived here.”

Sister Alda chuckled, setting down the herb basket on the low stone wall beside her.

“Still here. Still weeding the same corners. Though the weeds grow faster than I do these days.”

Emma and Julia stood quietly nearby, watching the exchange with interest. Alda turned to them with kind eyes.

“You must be Elena’s guests,” she said warmly. “I heard someone new was visiting. Not many come this far unless they’re looking for quiet.”

Julia and Emma introduced themselves, and the sister nodded, her eyes kind and curious.

“We don’t often get visitors,” she said, “but the doors are always open. Sometimes silence needs witnesses too.”

Emma looked toward the chapel. “Would it be alright if we stepped inside for a moment?”

“Of course,” Sister Alda said. “It’s not grand, but it holds its own kind of weight.”

As they walked slowly toward the chapel door, Julia whispered, “She reminds me of someone I met during fieldwork once… not in appearance, but in presence.”

Elena smiled, but didn’t say anything.

靜靜的對話

Elena 微笑著向前走了一步。「看到妳真好，Alda 修女。我還在想妳是不是搬走了。」

Alda 修女輕輕笑了，將手裡的藥草籃放在旁邊的石牆上。

「我還在呢，還在跟同樣幾塊地裡的雜草奮戰。只不過現在它們長得比我快多了。」

Emma 和 Julia 靜靜地站在一旁，看著她們的互動。Alda 隨即轉向她們，眼神溫柔。

「妳們一定是 Elena 的客人吧？」她溫和地說，

「我聽說最近有人來訪。一般人不太會來這麼遠的地方，除非是想找個安靜的地方。」

Julia 和 Emma 自我介紹後，修女點點頭，眼神溫和中帶著一點好奇。

「我們這裡不常有訪客，」她說，「但門總是開著的。有時候，靜默也需要有人見證。」

Emma 看向那座小教堂，「我們可以進去看看嗎？」

「當然，」Alda 修女點頭，「裡面不華麗，但有屬於它的重量。」

她們慢慢走向教堂門口時，Julia 輕聲說：「她讓我想起我以前田野調查時遇到的一個人…不是外貌，而是那種氣場。」

Elena 微笑，沒有回答。

In the Chapel’s Stillness

The door opened silently. The chapel was small and spare—just a few old wooden benches, a narrow aisle, and a modest altar covered in a pale linen cloth. Sunlight spilled through high windows in soft, slanted lines. Dust motes floated in the beams like slow, drifting snow. The air inside was cool and still, carrying faint traces of beeswax and old wood.

Emma paused in the doorway. Something about the scent and quiet made her hesitate. A memory surfaced—one she hadn’t recalled in years. Her grandmother’s village church in southern England: quiet, ivy-covered, always cool in the afternoon even on warm days.

A quiet chapel in the English countryside—Emma’s childhood

She remembered sitting there as a child beside her grandmother, her feet not touching the ground, listening to the creak of pews and the low notes of an old pipe organ. No sermons, just music. And a kind of quiet that didn’t ask anything of her.

She stepped in slowly and took a seat on one of the benches, letting the moment settle around her.

Near the front, Elena stood still for a long moment. Her eyes softened as they took in the space. She brought her hand slowly to her forehead, then shoulder to shoulder—a small, quiet sign of the cross. Her fingers paused at her chest. This place had been a secret shelter once, a quiet breath of safety during years when speaking of faith was unwelcome. She remembered coming here as a child, walking beside her grandmother with a small piece of rye bread hidden in her pocket, their footsteps barely echoing on the stone floor.

In the stillness, their memories moved like separate streams through the same valley—shaped by different lands, different faiths, but somehow flowing together in this one quiet room.

在教堂的靜默中

門靜靜地打開了。教堂不大，佈置極簡——幾張舊木椅、一條狹窄的走道，以及覆著淡色亞麻布的簡單祭壇。陽光從高窗傾瀉而下，斜斜地在空氣中鋪開。浮塵如同慢慢飄落的雪，在光束裡靜靜旋轉。空氣涼爽寧靜，混著蜜蠟與老木頭的氣息。

Emma 在門口頓了一下。某種氣味與靜默讓她瞬間停下腳步，一段早已塵封的記憶湧現——她祖母住在英格蘭南部小村莊的教堂，外牆長滿常春藤，夏日午後總是涼涼的。

英格蘭小教堂：Emma 童年回憶

她記得自己小時候坐在祖母身邊，雙腳懸空，聽著椅子的嘎吱聲與遠處老舊管風琴的低鳴。那天沒有講道，只有音樂。那種沉默，從不要求任何回應。

她慢慢走進去，坐在其中一張長椅上，任憑這個片刻包圍自己。

教堂前方，Elena 靜立良久。她的眼神隨著空間慢慢變得柔和。她緩緩舉起右手，從額頭到胸，再從左肩至右肩，畫了一個小小的十字。那動作很輕，幾乎看不見。她的手指停在胸口。

這地方，曾經是秘密的庇護所，是在信仰被視為禁忌的年代裡，一口不說出口的深呼吸。她想起自己小時候曾牽著祖母的手來這裡，口袋裡藏著一小片裸麥麵包，腳步小心翼翼地落在石地上。

在這片靜默中，她們的回憶像兩條獨立的溪流——源於不同的土地與文化，卻在這一個安靜的空間裡匯聚成同一種平和。

A Quiet Table in the Garden

The three women sat beneath the pear tree, where a modest wooden table had been set with simple plates and a ceramic teapot. A basket held slices of dark rye bread and a few golden pastries, soft and faintly sweet. Bees hovered lazily near the flowers, and the sun filtered gently through the vines above.

Sister Alda poured the tea, smiling faintly. “It’s chamomile and a bit of mint from the back wall. We don’t grow much anymore—just enough to share.”

Julia bit into a pastry and let out a quiet, satisfied hum. “This is wonderful. Did you always bake like this?”

“Not always. I learned more when we had to be quiet.” Alda smiled, looking at the garden wall. “During the Soviet years, we couldn’t run a church officially. But we still gathered, quietly. The baking was part of it, you know. People came for bread… and left with something else too.”

Emma sipped her tea. “So… you kept going, just underground?”

“Oh yes,” Alda said casually. “We had sewing circles, reading groups, gardens. That’s how it worked. No big gatherings. Just… life. But inside it, faith.”

Elena reached for a slice of bread. “And no one told?”

Alda chuckled. “Well, some probably did. But others knew how to pretend not to notice. Even a few local officials… They had grandmothers, too.”

修道院花園的小桌旁

三人坐在老梨樹下，小桌上擺著幾個簡單的盤子和一壺陶製的熱茶。籃子裡有幾片切好的裸麥麵包，還有幾塊金黃微甜的手工糕點。蜜蜂在野花之間慢悠悠地飛，陽光穿過葡萄藤的葉子，在桌面上灑下斑駁光影。

Alda 修女邊倒茶邊微笑說：「這是洋甘菊和後牆那邊種的薄荷。我們現在種的不多，夠用、也夠分享就好。」

Julia 咬了一口糕點，輕聲說：「太好吃了。妳們一直都有在烘焙嗎？」

「不是一直都有啦。」Alda 笑著看向花園的牆邊，「蘇聯時代不能公開做教會的事，但我們還是會聚在一起，小小地聚會。烘焙，是其中一種方式。人們來，是為了買麵包……但有時候，也帶走一些別的。」

Emma 喝了一口茶：「妳們就這樣悄悄地繼續？」

「是啊，就像我們有縫紉圈、有讀書會、有花園。」Alda 很輕鬆地說：「沒有什麼大型聚會，都是生活的一部分。可是在那些細節裡，信仰還在。」

Elena 拿起一片麵包問：「那都沒有人通報嗎？」

Alda 笑了一下：「可能有人有。但也有人知道怎麼『沒看到』。就連有些地方的官員……他們也是有祖母的啊。」

Secrets in the Everyday

Julia leaned back slightly, the wooden chair creaking under her. “And children? How did families pass on religion if they couldn’t even talk about it in school?”

Sister Alda took a small bite of bread and answered almost playfully. “We had bedtime stories. One grandmother I knew told her grandchildren the Bible as a fairy tale—no names, no places. Just the spirit of it.”

Elena smiled. “My grandmother did something similar. She kept an old rosary hidden in a tea tin. Every Sunday afternoon, we would go ‘check on the garden’… and come back with muddy shoes and a few whispered prayers.”

Emma’s eyes widened slightly. “So much happened in the quiet.”

Alda nodded. “Quiet is where everything lived. Faith, stories, even resistance. We didn’t shout. We baked, we walked, we planted.”

藏在日常裡的祕密

Julia 微微向後靠了一下，椅子發出輕輕的吱嘎聲：「那孩子呢？家裡的人要怎麼教他們信仰？學校又不能講。」

Alda 修女咬了一小口麵包，語氣倒像是說趣事似的：「睡前故事啊。有個奶奶，我記得她把聖經當童話講——沒有名字、沒有地點，只有精神。」

Elena 笑了：「我祖母也有點像。她把舊念珠藏在茶葉罐裡。我們每個週日下午都會去『看看花園』……回來時鞋上沾滿泥巴，心裡多了一句低聲的禱告。」

Emma 輕輕瞪大眼睛：「原來那麼多事，是在安靜中發生的。」

Alda 點了點頭：「是啊。安靜裡面什麼都有。信仰、故事，還有抵抗。我們不吶喊，我們烘焙、散步、種東西。」

A Gentle Goodbye

The tea had gone lukewarm, and the shadows on the garden table had shifted slightly. Julia glanced at her watch, reluctant but aware of the time.

“We should probably go soon,” she said softly.

Elena nodded, finishing the last bite of her pastry. “Thank you for the stories. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear them.”

Sister Alda stood, brushing a few crumbs from her lap. “You’re welcome anytime. Quiet places remember things for us.”

They walked back toward the chapel, where sunlight now slanted across the stone path. Just before reaching the gate, they paused. There was no ceremony, no grand goodbye—but this time, they hugged. Brief, quiet, and real.

“If you visit again in the autumn,” Alda said, her voice light, “you might find quince on the trees and mushrooms in the forest. There are always new things to taste.”

Emma smiled. “And to ask about.”

The wooden gate clicked softly behind them as they stepped out into the afternoon light.

道別

茶已微涼，花園桌上的影子也悄悄地換了角度。Julia 看了一眼手錶，有些捨不得地說：「我們大概該走了。」

Elena點點頭，咬下最後一口點心：「謝謝妳說這些故事。我沒想到自己那麼需要聽見它們。」

Alda 修女站起來，拍了拍裙上的麵包屑：「有空常來。這些安靜的地方，會替我們記住很多事情。」

她們慢慢走回教堂前方，陽光斜斜地落在石板路上。快到大門時，幾人停下腳步，沒有正式告別、沒有儀式——但這次，她們彼此擁抱了。時間不長，動作輕柔，卻很真實。

「如果妳們秋天再來，會看到榅桲熟了，森林裡也開始有菇。我們總是有新的味道等著妳們。」

Emma 笑著說：「還有新的問題。」

木門在她們身後輕輕合上，三人走入靜靜的午後光之中。