The story of the Rohner family wasn’t one of grand politics, but it was a story touched by its ripples, like the gentlest lap of waves against their small sailboat on a glassy expanse of Lake Lucerne. For generations, the Rohner men had been fishermen, their lives dictated by the rhythm of the seasons and the bounty of the lake. Old Matthias Rohner, his face creased like a weathered map, could predict a storm brewing over the distant peaks just by the way the water danced. His son, Franz, had inherited that same connection to the lake, his hands as sure mending a torn net as they were guiding their little boat, the Edelweiss.
This year, though, the familiar rhythm felt off. Unease settled over Franz like the cold mists that sometimes rolled down the mountains at dawn. News of the war in faraway Ukraine felt distant, yet the whispers of it reached even their quiet corner of Switzerland. Tourists, usually drawn to the tranquility of Lake Lucerne, were scarce. A shadow seemed to have fallen over the world, and even the plump perch Franz usually caught seemed fewer.
One evening, as the last sliver of sun dipped behind the mountains, casting long shadows on the water, Franz saw a sight that made him furrow his brow. A sleek motorboat, far flashier than anything usually seen on the lake, sliced through the water, leaving a wake that rocked the Edelweiss. Two stern-looking men in dark suits sat in the back, and a third man,with an air of importance, stood at the helm. They didn’t look like fishermen, or tourists. They were here for something else entirely.
As days turned into weeks, whispers turned into pronouncements. The grand conference for peace was to be held at the Buergenstock Resort, overlooking the very lake Franz called home. Suddenly, their quiet existence was thrust into the center of the world stage. Security boats patrolled the waters, their presence a jarring contrast to the gentle rhythm of the lake. News helicopters buzzed overhead, their noise shattering the tranquility.
One morning, a commotion erupted at the docks. Important visitors were arriving, it seemed. Franz watched, curiosity battling with a strange sense of unease, as a motorcade of black cars pulled up, disgorging men and women in suits, their faces etched with worry. They were the world leaders, here to discuss peace in a place far from the battlefield.
As Franz went about his day, the usual joy of being on the lake felt tinged with something else. The war, though distant,loomed large. He cast his nets, a silent prayer forming on his lips for peace to return, not just to Ukraine, but to the world,to the lake, to their simple life. In the quiet lapping of the water against his boat, he found a sliver of hope, a reminder that even in the midst of conflict, the natural world persisted, offering a silent plea for peace.
A peace summit for Ukraine opens this weekend in Switzerland. But Russia won’t be taking part
Comments