September 7th, 1993.
It was happening in another millennium, in another life. Still mine, for sure. It was happening after making sure that He truly loves me and he's not one of those who just want to use me - well, yeah, education...
After one year without talking to each other and just sharing glances, I put him through the 'big test'. Meaning I let him cry for 3 days, thinking that I have leukemia and I was going to die. Where was my head when inventing this kind of 'test'? Well, simply it wasn't. What has the head to do with the first love, with that adolescents to be love, with the first butterflies flying inside the belly and refusing to go, no matter what? Right. Nothing... So, after 3 days I was convinced that yes, I'm the love of his life and I gave him the good news about the 'mistaken' medical tests and about my health situation: the only 'danger' to my health was the love for him.
Tears of joy. Joy of getting together, of reconciliation, of the love that obviously now it was flowering in both our hearts and for sure that it was going to remain there at least for ever. I knew among the tears and joy and promises that were pouring between us that yes, the time had come for my first kiss to happen. And, while happily walking hand in hand towards home, he took me in his arms, lifting me up, and He kissed me. The earth surely stopped, the stars suddenly were brighter and the time... the time didn't exist for a few moments.
This is how my first kiss was. The He gently left me with my feet on the ground again. There are no words to describe the happiness uniting us then.
September 7th, 1993. I was 13 and he was 14.
The next year passed with us being together, with dating in front of the house, with other kisses, with walking hand in hand, with the first fight and the first coming back together along the renewed promises, with the nights I was falling asleep with his face on my mind just to wake up the next morning seeing the same face... With first jealousy scene and the first sensation that I need space and freedom in love... With other coming backs together and other promises renewed. With the believe that the world is spinning around for us and that obviously 'always' is the time we're going to be together. With everything that adds magic and flavor to the first adolescenthood love.
That 'always' lasted for 1 year. After that, we remained friends and each one went on with following its own path in life.
The time came for him to carry my child in his arms, then for me to go at his wedding. There are 8 years since his wedding? I don't remember exactly, but we didn't see and didn't speak to each other since then. I knew he was going to leave the country with his newly wife and I kept in my heart his image happy as he was at his wedding. Since then, I saw him only when he was visiting me in my dreams, every time going back to where we grew up together, to talk, at least in the land of dreams, about what was happening in our lives.
A few days ago I dreamed him again. I was going to his parents home to asked them how is He, how is life treating him these days. In the dream, instead of his parents opening the door it was He, himself. He told me that he divorced, we hugged and we just simply were back together. I woke up from this dream decided to go to his parents next time I'll visit the town I grew up in and find out for real what is happening with him.
But first I searched him on facebook. And I found him. Later that evening we were talking this time for real, and he was telling me that yes, he is divorcing, yes, he also thought of me, yes, the most beautiful love was then, when we were kids-to-adolescents.
I'm living now, same as then, 17 years ago, the joy of reconnecting, the joy of this love that was silently there in my heart and refused to just fade away.
In the meantime, I've learned not to make plans, not to ask what and how will be, if it will be. And I've learned to simply enjoy this present moment, without giving it a special meaning, to be grateful for the way life has its own wisdom in arranging things, people, events, love...
Primul meu sarut
7 septembrie 1993.
Se intampla intr-un alt mileniu, se intampla intr-o alta viata. Tot a mea, de buna seama. Se intampla dupa ce am avut grija sa ma asigur ca El ma iubeste cu adevarat si nu este unul dintr-aceia care doar vor sa se foloseasca de mine - deh, educatia...
Dupa un an in care nu ne-am vorbit ci doar ne-am urmarit cu privirile, l-am supus marelui test. Adica l-am lasat sa planga 3 zile crezand ca am leucemie si ca voi muri. Unde mi-a fost capul de am inventat asemenea 'test'? Pai simplu, nu mi-a fost. Ce are capul de-a face cu prima iubire, cu acea iubire de adolescenti in devenire, cu primii fluturi ce-si fac simtita prezenta in stomac si refuza sa plece, orice ai face? Exact. Nimic...
Asa ca, dupa 3 zile in care m-am convins ca da, sunt iubirea vietii lui, i-am dat vestea cea buna despre analizele 'gresite' si despre starea mea de sanatate: singurul 'pericol' ce-mi influenta sanatatea era iubirea pentru el.
Lacrimi de bucurie. De bucuria regasirii, a impacarii, a iubirii ce era clar de acum ca inflorea in inimile amandorura si cu siguranta avea sa fie acolo cel putin pentru totdeauna. Am stiut printre lacrimile si bucuria si promisiunile ce curgeau atunci ca da, a venit momentul pentru primul meu sarut. Si, in timp ce mergeam fericiti catre casa, ne-am oprit, m-a ridicat in brate, si asa, cu picioarele in aer, la El in brate, m-a sarutat. Pamantul cu siguranta s-a oprit, stelele au inceput dintr-o data sa straluceasca mai tare, iar timpul... timpul n-a mai existat vreme de ceva minute.
Asa a fost primul meu sarut. Apoi El m-a lasat bland cu picioarele pe pamant. Si nu sunt cuvinte sa descriu fericirea ce ne unea atunci.
7 septembrie 1993. Aveam 13 ani iar el 14.
Urmatorul an a curs fiind impreuna, cu intalniri in fata blocului, cu alte sarutari, cu plimbari de mana, cu prima cearta de indragostiti, cu prima impacare insotita de promisiuni reinnoite, cu serile in care adormeam cu imaginea lui in minte doar pentru a ma trezi dimineata cu aceeasi imagine... Cu prima scena de gelozie si cu prima senzatie ca am nevoie de spatiu si de libertate atunci cand iubesc... Cu alte impacari si alte promisiuni. Cu convingerea ca lumea se invarte pentru noi si ca, de buna seama, 'mereu' este perioada in care vom fi impreuna. Cu tot ce da farmec si aroma primei iubiri de adolescenti.
Acel 'mereu' a durat 1 an. Dupa care am ramas prieteni si fiecare a mers in propria directie mai departe in viata.
A venit vremea cand el mi-a tinut copila in brate, iar eu am fost la nunta lui. Sa fie 8 ani de atunci? Nici nu mai stiu exact, dar de la nunta lui nu ne-am mai vazut si nici nu am mai vorbit. Stiam ca urma sa plece din Romania cu sotia lui si am pastrat in inima imaginea lui asa fericit cum era la nunta. L-am mai vazut doar cand imi aparea in vis, de fiecare data acolo unde am crescut impreuna, reintorcandu-ne sa povestim, macar in vis, ce se mai intampla in vietile noastre.
Acum cateva zile l-am visat iar. Acasa la parintii lui unde ma dusesem sa-i intreb ce mai face El, cum e viata lui. In vis, in loc sa-mi deschida parintii lui, mi-a deschis chiar El. Mi-a spus ca a divortat, ne-am luat in brate si pur si simplu am fost iar impreuna. M-am trezit hotarata sa merg la parintii lui, sa aflu intr-adevar ce mai face.
L-am cautat intai pe facebook. L-am gasit. Seara vorbeam si imi povestea, de data asta real, ca da, divorteaza, ca da, si el s-a gandit la mine, ca da, cea mai frumoasa iubire a fost cea traita atunci, cand eram copii-adolescenti.
Traiesc iar, ca si atunci, cu 17 ani in urma, bucuria regasirii, bucuria unei iubiri care a stat acolo cuminte in inima mea si a refuzat sa dispara.
Intre timp, am invatat sa nu mai fac planuri, sa nu ma mai intreb ce si cum va fi, de va fi. Si am mai invatat sa ma bucur pur si simplu de acest moment prezent, fara a-i da o semnificatie anume, sa fiu recunoscatoare pentru felul in care viata are propria intelepciune in a aranja lucrurile, oamenii, evenimentele, iubirile...