Bucovina spilling in all directions, like crystal waters, under the car's wheels, his beautiful green eyes, from time to time he turns to me and our gazes briefly weld together, between us diamond bridges and yellow paper bridges, collapsing and quickly rising, two souls separated by water and us waving white handkerchiefs from the shores, never has a man inhabited me the way Mihai inhabits me, then he opens his mouth and says what are those windows called, dad, I've seen them at the Saxons, dormers, Mihai, dormers, they are the eyes of the house, suddenly a young bull with naive eyes jumps in front of the car, we both fall silent and wait for it to cross, it's not rushing anywhere, what would a calf run towards on a Bucovinian day, why run when life is just as wide and long no matter how long you hold your breath, then suddenly Mihai opens his mouth, dad, do you remember our first good deed?
I try to dive into the past and grope short-sightedly through all the things there, like a diver searching for pearls on a blue seabed, I can't concentrate, in a few hours I'll have to speak to some priests at a course and my mind is full of directions and arguments, he's silent for a while and then I was about ten, you took me to Marcello's, in the market, to buy me pizza, Pepsi Twist had just come out then and that hot pizza in front of my eyes, I remember we weren't well off financially and you never bought anything for yourself, you watched me eating greedily, and a woman came in with her little girl, about my age, maybe a little younger, they sat right next to us, they were very poorly dressed, I didn't understand it then but I felt the awkwardness in their gestures, the waitress passed by and that woman, madam, excuse me, can we order half a pizza? And she, astonished, no, you can't have half a pizza, and the little girl's eyes swallowing dryly, looking at my pizza on the plate, I had managed to eat about two slices, and her mother, with wet sparkling eyes, never mind, my dear girl, look, I'll buy you a little juice, it was one of those little yellow Fanta bottles, I can almost see it, they sighed and drank from that juice in turns, my heart was torn, dad, and knowing you wouldn't believe me I said dad I'm full, I really can't eat anymore, we looked at each other for a second, I was lying and you knew I was lying, you took the plate with the pizza and gave it to the little girl, I remember their embarrassment and the eagerness with which she pounced to eat, we didn't look each other in the eye anymore but we both knew the truth, dad, our first good deed was split in two, you know, two accomplices, it was the sweetest complicity with anyone, dad, when we split that deed in two.
And suddenly those mountains filled with white and I couldn't see anything anymore, I'm not ashamed to cry in front of him, of all the people in the world he knows me best and his hand with the Byzantine tattoo, caressing my cheeks, his hand, let it be, dad, I love you. I love you.
Rev. Crin-Triandafil Theodorescu
Photo by Fakhri Baghirov / pexels.com