"Acasă"

Daniel Griswell

Casey Lopez

ENG 101

28 March 2017

"Acasă"

            Vreau să cânt, să visez și să râd, [I want to sing, to dream and to laugh,]

Dar, să nu uit să mă joc câteodată. [But I don't want to forget to play sometimes.]

Și-atunci când în lume voi pleca, [And then when I step into the world,]

Să nu uit să mă întorc acasă. [I don't want to forget to come back home.]†

I want to walk cobblestone streets lined with twisted wrought-iron fences, and hear wind chimes from tiny garden courtyards full of cherry trees. I want to feel the soft breeze dancing through the alleyways of centuries-old apartment homes with hanging window-boxes full of geraniums. I want to hear the voices of children born of Italy, Hungary, Deutschland, Ukraine, Russia, and Romanian heritage, and join in a streetside hand-clapping game that unites all their hands in one common rhythm.

I want to walk pathways beaten down by countless sandaled feet, and watch cows make their sunset march across city streets as BMW, Mercedes, and Dacia Dusters wait patiently for the bovine parade to pass. I want to sit at a table with "familia mea", laughing with a joy born of Heaven, while bowls of supă de pui are followed by delicious sarmale, and hands are joined in prayer for loved ones near and far.

I want to see shepherds sitting on hillsides filled with heather and wheatgrass, and sheep creating a puffy cumulus cloud of wool in constantly shifting shapes. I want to hear church bells from thousand year-old belfrys, and handbells ringing in the chapels and cathedrals. I want to ride in cars driven by 5-speed speed-demons who laugh when you say "Go faster!" I want to sit on the front stoop by the orange pay phone and sip "Apa Minerale" while street dancers with bells on their heels and cymbals on their wrists walk by in a symphony of percussive cadence. I want to hear the language of angels, and the muzica cerului (music of Heaven) from the voices of children in Bistrita, Herina, Șieu, and further up and further in.

While this ever-lingering desire might be like "seeing green horses on the wall", my heart still sings of that possibility. Maybe next time, I can take more of it in. Until then, (if only in my mind,) I won't ever forget to come back home.