Mirela a r\u0103mas nemi\u0219cat\u0103 \u00een ploaie, cu umbrela tremur\u00e2nd \u00een m\u00e2ini. \u00cel privea pe Andrei cum r\u00e2de cu colegii, f\u0103r\u0103 griji, f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 \u0219tie nimic despre povara pe care ea o purta de at\u00e2\u021bia ani. Inima i se str\u00e2ngea.<\/p>\n
C\u00e2nd b\u0103iatul s-a apropiat de ma\u0219in\u0103, ea a z\u00e2mbit, dar z\u00e2mbetul i-a fost fragil, for\u021bat. Andrei a urcat \u0219i \u0219i-a scuturat ghiozdanul ud, povestindu-i despre o not\u0103 bun\u0103 la matematic\u0103. Mirela d\u0103dea din cap, dar \u00een mintea ei se derulau imagini din trecut \u2014 chipul lui Ion, privirea mamei lui, ploaia din noaptea \u00een care a n\u0103scut.<\/p>\n
\u00cen seara aceea, dup\u0103 ce l-a culcat, a r\u0103mas mult timp la mas\u0103, cu o can\u0103 de ceai rece. \u00cen ad\u00e2ncul sufletului \u0219tia: chipul acela familiar pe care \u00eel v\u0103zuse la \u0219coal\u0103 nu era doar o coinciden\u021b\u0103. \u00cen ultimele luni, prin ora\u0219 se mutaser\u0103 oameni noi, iar printre ei se zvonea c\u0103 o firm\u0103 mare de construc\u021bii deschisese un \u0219antier \u00een zon\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u00cen urm\u0103toarele zile, Mirela a \u00eenceput s\u0103-l vad\u0103 tot mai des. Un b\u0103rbat \u00eenalt, bronzat, cu p\u0103rul \u00eenc\u0103 negru, dar cu riduri la col\u021burile ochilor. Ion. Lucr\u00e2nd la marginea drumului, cu casca galben\u0103 pe cap, de parc\u0103 via\u021ba n-ar fi trecut niciodat\u0103 peste el.<\/p>\n
O dat\u0103, ochii lor s-au \u00eent\u00e2lnit. El a r\u0103mas cu lopata \u00een aer, ne\u0219tiind dac\u0103 s\u0103 z\u00e2mbeasc\u0103 sau s\u0103 plece. Mirela s-a \u00eentors pe c\u0103lc\u00e2ie \u0219i a plecat f\u0103r\u0103 un cuv\u00e2nt.<\/p>\n
Dar soarta avea alte planuri.<\/p>\n
Dup\u0103 o s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103, Andrei a venit acas\u0103 cu un pliant \u00een m\u00e2n\u0103. \u201eMama, am fost la un t\u00e2rg de cariere. Un domn de la o firm\u0103 de construc\u021bii m-a \u00eentrebat dac\u0103 nu vreau s\u0103 fac practic\u0103 la var\u0103. Mi s-a p\u0103rut foarte de treab\u0103. Zicea c\u0103 te cunoa\u0219te…\u201d<\/p>\n
Inima Mirelei a \u00eenceput s\u0103 bat\u0103 tare. A luat pliantul. Pe el scria clar: \u201eFirma de construc\u021bii I. Popescu \u2013 Calitate \u0219i tradi\u021bie\u201d.<\/p>\n
\u00cen noaptea aceea, nu a dormit deloc. Nu \u0219tia dac\u0103 s\u0103 spun\u0103 adev\u0103rul sau s\u0103-l lase pe Andrei s\u0103 afle singur. Dar via\u021ba o \u00eenv\u0103\u021base c\u0103 t\u0103cerea, uneori, doare mai tare dec\u00e2t orice cuv\u00e2nt.<\/p>\n
A doua zi, a mers la \u0219antier. Ion a v\u0103zut-o venind \u0219i a l\u0103sat totul din m\u00e2n\u0103. \u201eMirela…\u201d \u2014 a spus \u00eencet.<\/p>\n
Ea nu i-a dat voie s\u0103 continue. \u201eNu veni la mine cu regrete. Nu dup\u0103 tot ce ai f\u0103cut.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ion a oftat, ru\u0219inat. \u201eN-am \u0219tiut cum s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentorc. M-au obligat, m-au amenin\u021bat… Tat\u0103l meu a murit, mama e bolnav\u0103. N-a trecut o zi f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 m\u0103 g\u00e2ndesc la tine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201e\u021ai-ai adus aminte cam t\u00e2rziu\u201d, a spus ea rece.<\/p>\n
S-a \u00eentors s\u0103 plece, dar el a rostit numele fiului lor. \u201eAndrei… e b\u0103iatul meu, nu?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mirela s-a oprit. Lini\u0219tea dintre ei a fost mai grea dec\u00e2t ploaia de afar\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u00cen acea clip\u0103, Andrei, care o urm\u0103rise de la distan\u021b\u0103, s-a apropiat \u00eencet. \u201eMama, cine e domnul \u0103sta?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cuvintele i-au r\u0103mas \u00een g\u00e2t. A sim\u021bit c\u0103 tot ce a ascuns at\u00e2\u021bia ani se destram\u0103. Apoi, cu o voce abia \u0219optit\u0103, a spus: \u201eE… tat\u0103l t\u0103u.\u201d<\/p>\n
B\u0103iatul a \u00eencremenit. Ion \u0219i-a scos casca \u0219i s-a apropiat, cu lacrimi \u00een ochi. \u201eAndrei, nu te-am p\u0103r\u0103sit pentru c\u0103 n-am vrut s\u0103 fiu acolo. N-am avut curaj. Dar dac\u0103 mai e o \u0219ans\u0103 s\u0103 fiu m\u0103car un pic parte din via\u021ba ta, o s\u0103 lupt pentru ea.\u201d<\/p>\n
Timpul s-a oprit. Mirela \u0219i Andrei s-au privit. \u00cen ochii b\u0103iatului se citea furie, dar \u0219i curiozitate. \u00cen cei ai femeii \u2014 oboseal\u0103, dar \u0219i o mic\u0103 sc\u00e2nteie de eliberare.<\/p>\n
Via\u021ba nu i-a mai adus \u00eenapoi ce pierduser\u0103, dar \u00een zilele urm\u0103toare, Ion a \u00eenceput s\u0103 treac\u0103 pe la ei. Nu vorbeau mult, dar t\u0103cerile lor erau mai u\u0219oare. Andrei \u00eel privea cu re\u021binere, \u00eens\u0103 \u00eencet-\u00eencet a \u00eenceput s\u0103 \u00een\u021beleag\u0103.<\/p>\n
Anii nu pot \u0219terge trecutul, dar pot aduce iertarea.<\/p>\n
Iar pentru Mirela, care \u0219i-a crescut copilul singur\u0103, acel moment nu a fost o \u00eentoarcere \u00een trecut, ci dovada c\u0103 via\u021ba poate merge mai departe chiar \u0219i dup\u0103 cele mai grele furtuni.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Mirela a r\u0103mas nemi\u0219cat\u0103 \u00een ploaie, cu umbrela tremur\u00e2nd \u00een m\u00e2ini. \u00cel privea pe Andrei cum r\u00e2de cu colegii, f\u0103r\u0103 griji, f\u0103r\u0103 s\u0103 \u0219tie nimic despre povara pe care ea o purta de at\u00e2\u021bia ani. Inima i se str\u00e2ngea. C\u00e2nd b\u0103iatul s-a apropiat de ma\u0219in\u0103, ea a z\u00e2mbit, dar z\u00e2mbetul i-a fost fragil, for\u021bat. Andrei […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10163,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10162","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-povesti"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10162","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10162"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10162\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10164,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10162\/revisions\/10164"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10163"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10162"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10162"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10162"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}