{"id":9671,"date":"2020-12-25T15:03:47","date_gmt":"2020-12-25T13:03:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=9671"},"modified":"2020-12-25T15:03:47","modified_gmt":"2020-12-25T13:03:47","slug":"la-fereastra-ajunului-at-the-christams-eves-window","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=9671","title":{"rendered":"La fereastra Ajunului \/ At the Christams Eve’s window"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"craciun20\"<\/a><\/p>\n

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La fereastra Ajunului \/ At the Christams Eve’s window<\/p>\n

I-am colindat prin telefon pe mama \u0219i tata in seara asta sf\u00e2nt\u0103, a\u0219a cum fac in fiece an, de c\u00e2nd am plecat. Anul trecut am \u00eentrebat cu z\u00e2mbete:
\n– Primi\u021bi cu colindul?
\n\u0218i ei, ferici\u021bi, mul\u021bumi\u021bi, au acceptat r\u00e2z\u00e2nd. Acum \u00eens\u0103…
\nPentru c\u00e2teva minute a r\u0103sunat doar glasul meu \u0219i, in ad\u00e2ncul nop\u021bii, pl\u00e2nsul lor t\u0103cut, sf\u00e2\u0219ietor de trist \u0219i neajutorat… Apoi pl\u00e2nsul nostru… f\u0103r\u0103 cuvinte.
\n\u0218tiam vorbele ce urmau s\u0103 fie spuse, \u0219i eu, \u0219i ei. Neputin\u021ba este mai dureroas\u0103 dec\u00e2t moartea.
\n– S\u0103rut m\u00e2na, mam\u0103… S\u0103rut m\u00e2na, tat\u0103… Cr\u0103ciun luminat \u0219i binecuv\u00e2ntat!
\n– Sa tr\u0103ie\u0219ti, draga mamei!..
\nO voce \u00eenecat\u0103 \u00een lacrimi, vocea drag\u0103 a tatei, nu a reu\u0219it s\u0103 duc\u0103 p\u00e2n’ la cap\u0103t g\u00e2ndul…
\nUndeva in cerul \u00eentunecat, pl\u00e2nsul amar al p\u0103rin\u021bilor mei s.a pierdut printre stelele mute.
\nMama \u0219i tata… ace\u0219ti oameni buni care au trudit spre a trai, spre a m\u0103 ajuta sa tr\u0103iesc, se topesc fara m\u0103rturie, in pulberea drumului vie\u021bii.
\nNe.am \u0219ters cu sufletul unul altuia lacrimile.
\nHai, dragii mei, \u00eenc\u0103 un an, va rog frumos 🌟.
\n…………………………………………………………………….<\/p>\n

At the Christams Eve’s window<\/p>\n

I caroled my Mom and Dad by\u00a0 phone this holy night, as I do every year since I left. Last year I asked them with a smile:
\n– Do you accept carolers?
\nAnd they, happy, content, accepted laughing. But now …
\nFor a few minutes only my voice sounded and, in the depths of the night, their silent, heartbreaking sad and helpless cry … Then our cry … without words.
\nWe knew the words that were to be said, both me and them. Helplessness is more painful than death.
\n– Kiss your hand, Mom … Kiss your hand, Dad … Happy and blessed Christmas!
\n– Be well, darling girl!
\nA voice drowned in tears, my father’s dear voice, failed to complete the thought .
\nSomewhere in the dark sky, my parents’ bitter cry was lost among the voiceless stars.
\nMom and Dad … these good people who worked hard for life, who helped me live, they dissolve slowly without witness, in the dust of the road of life.
\nWe wiped each others tears away with the soul.
\nCome on, my only parents, one more year, for me, please…<\/p>\n

Maria Magdalena Biela<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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