There was a bed in my grandparents’ house. A special one. We
used to call it the hammock because it had a hole right in the middle of the
mattress. At that time I was not familiar with the word stress, and was too ignorant
regarding the importance of relaxation. But I do recall the satisfaction. I
used to sink half of my body in the mattress and would sleep the sleep of
angels. Sometimes, in the evening right before getting into the house in order
to go to sleep, I used to stop in front of the house. I would breathe in the
keen wind of the night and approach the flowers in my grandmother’s garden.
They were Nicotiana alata. Ever since then, it seems to me that all summer
nights have that scent. Strong, but delicate at the same time. Then, I would
glance at the sky, being under the impression that here, at my grandparents’
place, the sky was more generous. Not only was I able to see more stars, but I reckoned
that the stars I knew were closer to me here than in other places. And the
moon.. Well, the moon would shine brighter here. I don’t know why, but I always thought that faced
with such splendor even Creanga’s mother would have had uttered the same famous
words, but this time referring to the moon: Do
come out fair-haired child so that the moon would shine. And the moon would
come out as it knew with whom was dealing with. Then I would come into the
house, with my shoulders wet from the chilliness of the night. And all I wanted
was to get under the sheets and warm up. Once I was comfortably installed in my
hammock, I would start dreaming. Or maybe I was, actually, continuing the
dream. For weren’t that smell of Nicotiana alata and the clear sight of the
moon parts of a dream?!
