2 015 has started in complete denial for me. After over a year and a half of heartbreak, some stress that came with that and some guts that came out of nowhere and ripped some bandages covering a lot of bad bad things, I had decided it was time to practice being single. But not in a wallowing in self pity feeling sorry for myself kind of way, nor in a “men are terrible, I should only rely on pets” kind, either. Just being single and bei ng curious about every single experience, from having the morning coffee by myself, to fully functioning professionally and socially. Not that I had not been single before, but very rarely was I not “on the market”. So, half of 2014 I had been single and since December of that year, I had decided I actually was going to give this solo thing a try. It lasted four full months. It doesn’t look much in writing, either! Well, here is what happened! Armed with the will to practice curiosity and patience, I have started planning, for 2015, all those th
Cand ma inscrisese mama la gradinita, nu aveam mai mult de trei ani. Imi aduc aminte ca ma speria gramada aia ce copii guralivi si energici. Eu eram “puiul bunicii”, o femeie trecuta de cincizeci de ani, obisnuita sa respecte regulile sociale si sa le incalce flagrant pe cele familiale, strecurandu-mi prajituri intre mese si luandu-ma la ea ca sa scap de somnul de dupa-amiaza. Eu eram ursuletul ei de plus, iar viata mea toata se invartea in jurul ei. Ea ma ducea la gradinita, intr-un autobuz cu nazuri, care scartaia si se poticnea la fiecare intorsatura de roata. Ba odata, mi-am spart buza in bara de care ma tineam cu atata inversunare, ca sa nu fiu aruncata din scaun. Tot ea, bunica, ma lua de la gradinita, zambitoare ca de obicei. Si punctuala. Foarte important, asa, pentru “gradinitzari” care, odata ce incepe sa se goleasca clasa, incep a avea previziuni apocaliptice despre cum au fost abandonati de parinti. Dar parintii ajung mereu, asa ca visul lor cel mai urat se fasaie ca u