Curiozitatea m\u0103 ardea pe din\u0103untru. Nu era prima oar\u0103 c\u00e2nd mama ascundea emo\u021biile \u00een spatele unei aparente indiferen\u021be, dar gestul ei m\u0103 tulburase. Ce putea fi acel lucru mic pe care \u00eel l\u0103sase l\u00e2ng\u0103 bunica?<\/p>\n
Am a\u0219teptat s\u0103 se mai lini\u0219teasc\u0103 totul. Oamenii vorbeau \u00een \u0219oapt\u0103, iar unii se \u00eendreptau deja spre ie\u0219ire. Mi-am adunat curajul \u0219i m-am apropiat \u00eencet.<\/p>\n
Pe masa funerar\u0103, l\u00e2ng\u0103 m\u00e2inile \u00eempreunate ale bunicii, am z\u0103rit un mic obiect \u00eenvelit \u00eentr-o batist\u0103 alb\u0103, cusut\u0103 manual. L-am recunoscut imediat.<\/p>\n
Era batista pe care bunica i-o d\u0103duse mamei la nunt\u0103, cu margini brodate cu fir ro\u0219u \u0219i cu ini\u021bialele \u201eC.V.\u201d cusute de m\u00e2n\u0103. \u021ainuse mereu la ea, ca pe o comoar\u0103.<\/p>\n
Am desf\u0103cut-o u\u0219or \u0219i, spre uimirea mea, \u00een\u0103untru era o fotografie veche, \u00eeng\u0103lbenit\u0103 de timp. O fotografie cu bunica \u0219i bunicul, \u021bin\u00e2ndu-se de m\u00e2n\u0103 la un t\u00e2rg de toamn\u0103, cu mere ro\u0219ii \u0219i frunze c\u0103zute \u00een jur. \u00cen col\u021bul pozei era scris cu cerneal\u0103: \u201eIubirea nu moare niciodat\u0103.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mi-au dat lacrimile. Mama, care p\u0103rea at\u00e2t de rece, \u00ee\u0219i g\u0103sise propriul mod de a spune adio. Nu cu vorbe, nu cu lacrimi, ci cu un gest t\u0103cut, \u00eenc\u0103rcat de emo\u021bie.<\/p>\n
Am sim\u021bit c\u0103 \u00eentre noi, femeile acestei familii, exista un fir nev\u0103zut. Bunica d\u0103duse mai departe mamei amintiri \u0219i putere. Mama, la r\u00e2ndul ei, transmitea mai departe acea leg\u0103tur\u0103 c\u0103tre mine, chiar dac\u0103 nu o spunea cu voce tare.<\/p>\n
\u00cen acea clip\u0103, mi-am amintit de obiceiurile de la \u021bar\u0103, c\u00e2nd oamenii puneau l\u00e2ng\u0103 mort un obiect drag, ca s\u0103 \u00eel \u00eenso\u021beasc\u0103 pe cel\u0103lalt drum. Era credin\u021ba c\u0103 sufletul nu pleac\u0103 niciodat\u0103 singur, ci ia cu el o parte din p\u0103m\u00e2ntul pe care l-a iubit.<\/p>\n
Am privit din nou fotografia. \u00cemi p\u0103rea c\u0103 bunica z\u00e2mbea, chiar \u0219i dincolo de t\u0103cerea ei. \u0218i mi-am dat seama c\u0103 gestul mamei nu fusese doar unul de adio, ci \u0219i unul de speran\u021b\u0103. O promisiune c\u0103 iubirea nu se rupe, ci trece din genera\u021bie \u00een genera\u021bie.<\/p>\n
M-am apropiat de mama \u00een curte, unde st\u0103tea singur\u0103, privind spre p\u0103m\u00e2nt. Am \u00eentins m\u00e2na \u0219i am luat-o pe a ei. Era rece, dar tremura u\u0219or.<\/p>\n
\u201eAm v\u0103zut,\u201d i-am \u0219optit.<\/p>\n
Nu m-a \u00eentrebat ce. \u0218tia c\u0103 \u00een\u021belesesem. Ochii i s-au umplut de lacrimi, pentru prima dat\u0103 \u00een ziua aceea. \u0218i atunci am \u00een\u021beles c\u0103 fiecare dintre noi tr\u0103ia durerea \u00een felul s\u0103u.<\/p>\n
C\u00e2nd clopotul bisericii a b\u0103tut, r\u0103sun\u00e2nd peste sat, am sim\u021bit un val de lini\u0219te. Bunica plecase, dar ne l\u0103sase mo\u0219tenire nu doar re\u021betele cu scor\u021bi\u0219oar\u0103 \u0219i pl\u0103cintele cu mere, ci \u0219i credin\u021ba c\u0103 dragostea adev\u0103rat\u0103 nu piere.<\/p>\n
\u0218i \u00een timp ce priveam cerul de toamn\u0103, cu frunzele plutind \u00een v\u00e2nt, am sim\u021bit c\u0103 nu eram singur\u0103. \u00cen ad\u00e2ncul inimii mele, bunica \u00eemi \u0219optea \u00eenc\u0103: \u201eSmaranda, draga mea, sunt aici.\u201d<\/p>\n
Am str\u00e2ns m\u00e2na mamei mai tare \u0219i am \u0219tiut c\u0103, indiferent de ce va aduce via\u021ba, vom merge mai departe \u00eempreun\u0103, purt\u00e2nd acea iubire cu noi.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Curiozitatea m\u0103 ardea pe din\u0103untru. Nu era prima oar\u0103 c\u00e2nd mama ascundea emo\u021biile \u00een spatele unei aparente indiferen\u021be, dar gestul ei m\u0103 tulburase. Ce putea fi acel lucru mic pe care \u00eel l\u0103sase l\u00e2ng\u0103 bunica? Am a\u0219teptat s\u0103 se mai lini\u0219teasc\u0103 totul. Oamenii vorbeau \u00een \u0219oapt\u0103, iar unii se \u00eendreptau deja spre ie\u0219ire. Mi-am adunat […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4807,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4809","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\/4809","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=4809"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4809\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4810,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4809\/revisions\/4810"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4807"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4809"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4809"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4809"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}