\u201eDrag\u0103 Anca,
Nu am avut curajul s\u0103-\u021bi scriu p\u00e2n\u0103 acum. M-am uitat ani \u00eentregi la o foaie alb\u0103, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 pun \u00een cuvinte ceea ce nu se poate justifica\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Am oprit lectura. Mi-am dus scrisoarea la piept \u0219i am \u00eenchis ochii. Mirosea a h\u00e2rtie veche \u0219i a ceva familiar \u2014 poate a trecut. Am inspirat ad\u00e2nc, apoi am reluat, cu inima tremur\u00e2nd.<\/p>\n
\u201e\u00cen ziua nun\u021bii noastre, am primit o veste care mi-a schimbat tot viitorul. Mama mea f\u0103cuse infarct \u0219i era internat\u0103 \u00een stare grav\u0103. Tat\u0103l meu m-a sunat chiar \u00een drum spre templu \u0219i mi-a spus c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103 aleg: s\u0103 vin la tine sau s\u0103-i fiu al\u0103turi pentru ultima dat\u0103. Am ales gre\u0219it, \u0219tiu… dar eram doar un copil speriat de moarte.\u201d<\/p>\n
Am sim\u021bit cum o parte din nodul acela din g\u00e2tul meu \u2014 acela pe care \u00eel purtasem 50 de ani \u2014 \u00eencepea s\u0103 se dezlege. Nu se justificase, dar \u00een sf\u00e2r\u0219it \u00een\u021belegeam.<\/p>\n
\u201eAm vrut s\u0103 m\u0103 \u00eentorc, s\u0103 te caut, dar n-am mai avut curaj. \u00cen fiecare Ajun de Cr\u0103ciun m\u0103 uitam la poza noastr\u0103 din tinere\u021be \u0219i m\u0103 \u00eentrebam cum ar fi fost via\u021ba cu tine. \u021ai-am urm\u0103rit pa\u0219ii din umbr\u0103. Am aflat c\u00e2nd \u021bi-a murit tat\u0103l, c\u00e2nd \u021bi-ai deschis pr\u0103v\u0103lia, c\u00e2nd ai plecat din \u021bar\u0103 \u0219i ai revenit\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Scrisul devenea tot mai tremurat. Literele dansau ca ni\u0219te umbre pe h\u00e2rtie.<\/p>\n
\u201eNu m-am c\u0103s\u0103torit niciodat\u0103. N-am putut. Tu ai fost mereu acolo. \u00cen mintea mea. \u00cen vise. \u00cen fiecare miros de liliac din mai \u0219i \u00een fiecare s\u00e2mb\u0103t\u0103 diminea\u021b\u0103 c\u00e2nd m\u0103 trezeam prea devreme, ca atunci c\u00e2nd ne plimbam prin parc \u0219i m\u00e2ncam covrigi calzi din Pia\u021ba Mare.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mi-au dat lacrimile. Nu mai m\u00e2ncasem covrigi de la gogo\u0219arul de pe col\u021b de ani \u00eentregi. Parc\u0103 mi se luase gustul din gur\u0103 odat\u0103 cu dragostea.<\/p>\n
\u201eDac\u0103 cite\u0219ti aceste r\u00e2nduri, \u00eenseamn\u0103 c\u0103 mi-am g\u0103sit curajul, \u00een sf\u00e2r\u0219it. Nu-\u021bi cer nimic. Nici iertare, nici prezen\u021b\u0103. Doar s\u0103 \u0219tii c\u0103 nu ai fost uitat\u0103. \u0218i c\u0103, \u00eentr-un sat din Arge\u0219, un b\u0103tr\u00e2n merge zilnic la troi\u021ba de la r\u0103scruce \u0219i aprinde o lum\u00e2nare pentru tine. Cu g\u00e2ndul c\u0103 poate, \u00eentr-o alt\u0103 via\u021b\u0103, ai fi venit…\u201d<\/p>\n
Mi-a c\u0103zut scrisoarea din m\u00e2n\u0103. Am r\u0103mas nemi\u0219cat\u0103, cu ochii pe geam. Acolo, peste drum, era biserica. Acolo m-am dus de at\u00e2tea ori, cer\u00e2nd r\u0103spunsuri. \u0218i acum \u00eel aveam.<\/p>\n
Peste o s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103, am urcat \u00eentr-un tren spre Arge\u0219. \u00cen m\u00e2n\u0103, aveam o poz\u0103 veche, un cozonac \u0219i o sticl\u0103 de vin ro\u0219u. A\u0219a cum \u00eei pl\u0103cea lui Karl. L-am g\u0103sit acolo, \u00eentr-o c\u0103su\u021b\u0103 modest\u0103, cu un motan pe prisp\u0103 \u0219i o sob\u0103 care trosnea lini\u0219titor.<\/p>\n
Nu ne-am spus prea multe. Doar ne-am privit. Cu ochii obosi\u021bi, dar plini. \u0218i \u00een lini\u0219tea aceea, \u00eentre doi b\u0103tr\u00e2ni care fuseser\u0103 tineri prea devreme \u0219i prea brusc, s-a \u00eent\u00e2mplat miracolul pe care timpul nu-l poate \u0219terge: reg\u0103sirea.<\/p>\n
Pentru c\u0103 uneori, iubirea adev\u0103rat\u0103 nu vine c\u00e2nd o a\u0219tep\u021bi. Ci c\u00e2nd \u00een sf\u00e2r\u0219it e\u0219ti preg\u0103tit s-o \u00een\u021belegi.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201eDrag\u0103 Anca,Nu am avut curajul s\u0103-\u021bi scriu p\u00e2n\u0103 acum. M-am uitat ani \u00eentregi la o foaie alb\u0103, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 pun \u00een cuvinte ceea ce nu se poate justifica\u2026\u201d Am oprit lectura. Mi-am dus scrisoarea la piept \u0219i am \u00eenchis ochii. Mirosea a h\u00e2rtie veche \u0219i a ceva familiar \u2014 poate a trecut. Am inspirat ad\u00e2nc, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2932,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2931","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\/2931","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=2931"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2931\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2933,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2931\/revisions\/2933"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2932"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2931"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2931"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2931"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}