An Ordinary Miracle
Sorin went to the market for vegetables and brought me this. And hope. It's still cold, windy, muddy from the partially melted piles of snow, cloudy, but it seems that the wind has a new smell.
In one of his very few optimistic (I should say "less pessimistic") poems, Bacovia, our most melancholic poet, tells the spring:" I can still see you, I can still hear you." Maybe we will live this ordinary miracle one more time. A gift. I feel grateful and humble.
And all this, because of some tiny weeds! Back to the kitchen, where I belong today!
2 comments:
No trace of spring here. On the ocntrary, it is very cold and windy again. No way to understand the weather.
I have also lived in the kitchen form 10:30 to 14:30. I don't feel hungry any longer. Food for a whole week has fed me up.
Have a good celebration. and ocngratulate your son. How I envy them, loads of time ahead!
I don't envy them. They have wars to fight that, won or lost, are already behind me. I'm glad some stages of my life are over. I would not have the energy for them. I just hope I have enough left to help him, if he ever asks. Thanks.
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