Timpul s-a oprit.<\/p>\n
Nu-mi amintesc dac\u0103 am apucat s\u0103 spun ceva. \u00cei vedeam chipul, ridurile din jurul ochilor, p\u0103rul c\u0103runt \u0219i privirea aceea cald\u0103, dar obosit\u0103. Era ea. Mama mea. Viu \u0219i nev\u0103t\u0103mat\u0103. \u0218i totu\u0219i, un str\u0103in.<\/p>\n
Am \u00eenchis u\u0219a \u00een spatele celor de la Protec\u021bia Copilului \u0219i am r\u0103mas singure, noi dou\u0103. Feti\u021ba dormea \u00een camera de oaspe\u021bi, vis\u00e2nd, probabil, la o lume mai bun\u0103 dec\u00e2t cea \u00een care fusese l\u0103sat\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u201eUnde ai fost, mam\u0103?\u201d am reu\u0219it s\u0103 \u0219optesc.<\/p>\n
A oftat ad\u00e2nc \u0219i s-a a\u0219ezat pe canapea, ca \u0219i cum fiecare pas p\u00e2n\u0103 la mine fusese o lupt\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u201eAm fugit,\u201d a zis. \u201eNu de tine. De mine. De gre\u0219elile mele. De ceva ce n-am putut ierta.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mi-a povestit totul. Despre o femeie abuzat\u0103, care z\u00e2mbea doar pentru aparen\u021be. Despre nop\u021bi \u00een care voia s\u0103 fug\u0103, dar nu putea, pentru c\u0103 avea un copil mic care depindea de ea. Iar c\u00e2nd \u00een sf\u00e2r\u0219it acel copil a crescut \u0219i a devenit independent, ea a disp\u0103rut. A plecat s\u0103 se reg\u0103seasc\u0103. S\u0103 se vindece. A g\u0103sit ad\u0103post \u00eentr-un sat izolat din Maramure\u0219, unde nimeni nu o cuno\u0219tea. A devenit d\u0103dac\u0103 pentru Mia, feti\u021ba unei femei cu probleme, care \u00eentr-un final a abandonat-o.<\/p>\n
\u201e\u0218i atunci am \u0219tiut,\u201d a spus mama, cu lacrimi \u00een ochi, \u201ec\u0103 Dumnezeu m-a pus acolo nu ca s\u0103 fug, ci ca s\u0103 \u00eendrept ce-am stricat. Nu puteam s\u0103 te protejez atunci. Dar o pot proteja pe ea.\u201d<\/p>\n
Am stat \u00een t\u0103cere minute \u00een \u0219ir. Nu o puteam ierta pe loc. Nu dup\u0103 ani de \u00eentreb\u0103ri f\u0103r\u0103 r\u0103spuns. Dar am v\u0103zut \u00een ochii ei regretul adev\u0103rat. \u0218i am v\u0103zut \u00een Mia un fir de leg\u0103tur\u0103 \u00eentre trecut \u0219i viitor.<\/p>\n
\u00cen s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2nile ce au urmat, mama a r\u0103mas \u00een ora\u0219. \u00cempreun\u0103, am \u00eenceput demersurile pentru ca eu s\u0103 pot adopta legal feti\u021ba. Iar mama\u2026 s-a internat voluntar \u00eentr-un centru de consiliere psihologic\u0103. Vroia s\u0103 se vindece complet. Pentru ea. Pentru noi.<\/p>\n
Ast\u0103zi, Mia are camera ei \u00een casa mea. Deseneaz\u0103 fluturi pe pere\u021bi \u0219i \u00eemi spune \u201emami\u201d. Mama vine des, g\u0103te\u0219te sup\u0103 de pui ca \u00een copil\u0103rie \u0219i \u00eemi \u00eemplete\u0219te p\u0103rul c\u00e2nd m\u0103 doare capul.<\/p>\n
Nu \u0219tiu dac\u0103 trecutul se poate repara complet, dar \u0219tiu c\u0103 iubirea are forme ciudate de a reveni. Uneori, printr-un leag\u0103n gol \u00een mijlocul furtunii. Alteori, printr-un medalion r\u0103t\u0103cit. Sau printr-o feti\u021b\u0103 cu ochi tri\u0219ti, care a reaprins focul \u00een inima unei femei care se pierduse pe sine.<\/p>\n
\u0218i, \u00eentr-un fel, m-a salvat \u0219i pe mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Timpul s-a oprit. Nu-mi amintesc dac\u0103 am apucat s\u0103 spun ceva. \u00cei vedeam chipul, ridurile din jurul ochilor, p\u0103rul c\u0103runt \u0219i privirea aceea cald\u0103, dar obosit\u0103. Era ea. Mama mea. Viu \u0219i nev\u0103t\u0103mat\u0103. \u0218i totu\u0219i, un str\u0103in. Am \u00eenchis u\u0219a \u00een spatele celor de la Protec\u021bia Copilului \u0219i am r\u0103mas singure, noi dou\u0103. Feti\u021ba dormea […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2448,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2447","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\/2447","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=2447"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2447\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2449,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2447\/revisions\/2449"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2448"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2447"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2447"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2447"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}