By Iza Deleanu
I don't know about you but I always was good at second chances. For example, when I was born, I got a second chance. You know, I should have been dead after my spectacular landing on the floor. See, it comes handy to have an NFL receiver as a doctor. All the kids will be caught securely by this amazing receiver. My doctor was just like me, two lefts hands, so here I go slipping through his fingers straight into the bucket. Yup, they had a bucket at the end of the bed.
I cried so loud that I scared the entire team of doctors. They rushed me to the X-ray and the consultation room. I was fine, just like my cat, I was a loud protester.
I remember in my first year of life, my dad got a lot of that part! He was worked in shifts and every time he came home from a night shift, I decided that was the perfect time to protest and give him some crying rounds. One day he couldn't take it anymore, and put me in a hanger behind the door that we had for winter jackets. I was so surprised by his action that I forgot to cry. Since that day we been best friends.
Another second chance I got when I almost drowned. My dad had an old fiber framed boat that we used a lot during the hot summer days. I was one year old, and my parents decided to go swimming, I mean my dad, my mom never learnt how to do it. The day was so beautiful, so we put all the things necessary for this adventure in the boat. We finally arrived. My dad left my mom with me and he went to buy ice-cream and cold beer.
My mom took me out of the boat and left me on the shore and turned around to unload some things from the boat. I was holding an old radio, and I was trying to reach the water. Suddenly a wave snatched me from the shore. My mom later on told me that all she could see was my hair floating under the water. She caught me just in time. See, since then the water was my favorite place to be. She got so scared. My dad found out about this incident later on. I was never afraid of the water. He used to cross the Danube river with me on his shoulder. He was very proud of me. He said that I was never afraid of the water, probably this is way I learnt to swim by myself, and my sister never tried to learn.
To be continued
By Iza Deleanu
I remember as a kid I used to do lots of crazy things. For example, when I was about five years old I decided to go and buy bread all by myself.
The store was a good 10 minutes walk parallel with a rail line and to reach the goal I had to cross a big intersection with no traffic lights.
All of this started because my mom was talking to my dad about who needs to go and buy some bread before going to work.
It was 2 pm and my mom was in a hurry to get ready for her shift. I heard their conversation and without saying a word I went outside and started to walk towards the store. My neighbor saw me and asked me where I was going. I told her that I'm going to buy bread.
I finally reached the store and I asked the baker for a bread. The baker asked me for money. I remember that everytime I wanted ice-cream my mom used to say that I can use my buttons to pay for it, because she has no money for that. I had no idea that she was joking. I look at my blouse and started to count the buttons and then I asked the baker:
- I have five buttons how much for the bread?
- Three, said the baker.
I reached towards the buttons with the intention to rip them off, but I don't know how my mom showed up behind my back and stopped me. She was very pale and scared. She paid for the bread and didn't say a word. She took me home and told me that we will talk later.
After she went to work my dad told me how worried they were when I disappeared. They found out where I went from my neighbor. Apparently my mom was behind me all the time. She wanted to see me reaching my destination safe.
After work she come home and talked to me:
- Iza, please if you ever hear me and your dad arguing about who needs to go buy food, you will do nothing. You are just a kid. It's not your job to worry about this.
- Mom, I just wanted to help out.
- I know, baby. But that road is not safe. What if a car ...hit you? No bread in the world is worth your life. You want to help, but you are too little. Wait until you grow up. Also to buy bread you need money and also the blue ration card. Each of us has the right to half of bread. Our family has 4 members, it's too hard for you to carry 2 breads. God gave us a second chance by sending your guardian angel to watch over you. Please don't do this ever again.
- Okay, mommy.
Of course it was not in my nature to obey , my curiosity was bigger than any danger so of course I did it again. But this story is for another day.
By Iza Deleanu
I was in the ninth grade, and since I love to travel, that year I decided to go with my sister on a summer camp with children of different ages. We left the house for a week, but this was one week that I will never forget.
We arrived at the camp, and I was enchanted by the beauty of the mountain and the river that was zig-zagging its way around the camp.
I made friends right away with the kids from my room. At night, I used to make up stories, so the small ones could get to sleep and forget about being away from their parents.
I made a friend, a girl who was in 5th grade. Mihaela was from Managalia, and we became pen friends after this memorable trip.
One day we decided to explore the forest by ourselves. You see, at that time the roads were safer, and kids didn't need a chaperone to accompany them left and right.
I think we chose the time wrong. Even in summer, five o'clock in a forest is not very "assuring". I remember how the sun was playing hide and seek with the trees. As we were going deeper in the forest, we got scared by the dead-pan silence that surrounded us. As we were admiring the gliding waves of the playful springs that were crying down from the mountain, suddenly we heard a scary noise. The wind become very unfriendly and the pattern of the light changed to a darker color.
That was the signal that it was time we returned to our lodging. The way back much shorter; I think we ran the whole time.
The next day my tribe of mischief and I, which included my sister, decided to go and explore the mountain across the river.
Of course, we didn't tell anybody so, here we are exploring the unknown. We had no mountain equipment for this expedition, my rope was the blades of the grass. After ascending for five hundred meters they started to scream: "Look, Iza, there is a cross... somebody died here! Maybe we should turn back and call it the day."
My tribe was smarter than me, so they started to descend. I told them: "You guys go ahead and wait for me at the bottom of the mountain." I ignored that sign of danger and continued my climbing. I remember trying to use a heap of grass to advance. The next thing I knew was that I was going down the slope with incredible speed, flying past my kids down to the river. All I saw was rushing trees in front of my eyes, and I was thinking: "Man, if I land on one of those I will be ripped in two." I saw a couple of mountain goats, probably they were wondering: "What the heck is she doing in our kingdom?"
I couldn't believe my luck. I tumbled up in the void, and somehow I landed on the river bank. With my last wits I drug myself half a meter to the right. That move saved my life, because on my way down I engaged a "nice" avalanche of pebbles and stones that woul have been buried me alive.
By Iza Deleanu
Did you know that oranges and grapefruit were coming into my house once a year around Christmas? In communist time, the dads used to get Christmas presents for their kids from the workplace. That was the only time we would see oranges and chocolates. It was mandatory to get at least one of each. In my country, we had apples, pears, grapes, blueberry, strawberry, peaches cherries, but no exotic stuff.
My sister and I used to believe that Santa Claus was real and that the oranges and grapefruit are Heaven's fruits. Our precious fruits were always green, so my dad used to deposit them into a wooden box on top of the wardrobe. You can say it was our private orchard. For many years, that wardrobe was our magical realm: it was growing exotic fruits, tomatoes, and even chocolates and candy. My mom used to hide all kinds of goodies there. Unfortunately, those goodies had a short life span: my sister always managed to find that treasure.
I remember when I was five years old and my sister was three years old: when we decided to have a little adventure. Where do you think? Yup, in the wardrobe. In Romania, it was okay to leave your kids at home with no supervision. I don't know how, but I heard about that book "Uncle's Tom Cabin". I even saw a carpet with this image in my auntie's house. I was so obsessed with that image that I wanted to reconstruct that feeling of beeing in the middle of the forest in front of the cabin looking at a log fire.
I waited for my mom to leave the house. I took a tall chair and dropped all the clothes from the middle shelf of the closet. I took my mom's broom and put it in the middle. I helped my sister to get on one side of the broom and made her promised that will never tell mom about this adventure.
After that I said:
- Now, we will make a fire and feel like in "Uncle's Tom Cabin."
- Yay! It's going to be exactly like the one on that carpet?
- Yes, I got the matches, are you ready?
- Okay, let's do it!
Without thinking, I set the broom on fire. The moment my sister saw the broom on fire, she started to scream. I must admit I got scared too, so God knows how I managed to put it out! We were lucky, the wardrobe was saved and the broom didn't burn too bad. My mom found about this a few years later. I think that day our Guardian Angel was home and saved us from a huge burning.
I believe I always was kind of a curious kid. This incident was just one of the many other things I read in books and tried to taste them in real-time. But I will leave those stories for another time?
By Iza Deleanu
Here I am after twelve years in this new brave world still wondering about my achievements. Today I realized that my English, bad or good, stared to replace my Romanian. Frequently, I find myself wondering what word to use in a conversation with my ethnic friends, and I realized that I am out of words.
I become something that I thought will never happen to me, but now I suffer from the same disease as my other friends that are working in Italy and their sentences are 90 % Italian and 10 Romanian. When did I notice this change? Well... how about yesterday. I am ashamed of forgetting my mother tongue.
I guess not living in a place for a long time, and not reading or writings in that language ... you start to forget. More often you find yourself trying to speak and having that word in your head, but when it comes to let it free in the world is the translation in English.
I wonder how many of you are dealing with this dilemma and how well are you taking the rolling of the eyes from the people who never stepped out of their porch aka country. I got what I deserved! That
‘rolling” it’s a well-deserved punch in my face, for my own judgement towards the Romanian living in Italy. They at least have a good excuse because Italian is so close to Romanian. On the other hand, English is not! So, how I can get rid of my Rom-English?
By Iza Deleanu
By Iza Deleanu
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