Our new neighbour has an intrinsic aptitude for teaching. Since arriving in Canada, Maria has taught my husband and me through intriguing conversations about her younger life in Moldova, European politics, history, and travel.
I had asked Maria if she were to pick something that her country is best known for, what would that be? Without having to ponder an answer, she responded, “Good food and outstanding hospitality.”
Her answer came with no surprise to me. Since meeting Maria and her spouse Nick, they have been generous with delicious homemade bread, European entrees and desserts that allow Dave and I to enjoy the authentic tastes of Moldova and Greece. Recently, Maria presented us with these lovely traditionally decorated Easter eggs that she had made with environmentally friendly ingredients.
When I asked Maria for a memory in her younger life that significantly changed the course of her life direction, this is the story Maria told.
Written by Maria.
Dreams… Are they illusions? Or a mere story our human brain tells itself or reflects a predetermined goal we try to achieve through our day-to-day actions? For a girl twelve years of age, I believed it primarily concerned where I saw myself in the future.
My birthday is a few weeks before the beginning of the new school year. Our parents, grandparents, and relatives spoil us with many presents, good wishes, and lots of love on our special day. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I would receive an extraordinary gift on my twelfth birthday.
It had been years since my beloved great-grandmother died of old age. I was eight years old and remember that day well. I had cried for many nights wishing to see her again. Just once, even for a moment.
The night before my birthday, I was in the cellar with my grandmother and other relatives. I heard her first. There stood my great-grandmother. My wish was fulfilled! Confused, I said to my grandmother, who was standing beside me. “I know she is dead. How come she is here with us?” Before my grandma could answer, my great-grandmother spoke to me calmly, as she always did. “I have a secret to tell you, Maria. You are now turning twelve, and you should be careful. Your life will become more difficult!” I opened my mouth to ask, “I don’t understand. What do you mean, Bunica?” But instead of words, a yawn came out of my mouth. I had woken up and realized I was in my bedroom, not the cellar. I became more muddled as I thought about my great-grandmother’s strange message. I was sad that it was only a dream but was comforted that I had at least seen her face and heard her voice again. And that was the best birthday gift ever. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and I eventually tucked the strange prophecy into the back of my mind.
The new school year finally started. I was happy to see my friends and classmates again. We exchanged stories from over the summer. I did not talk to anyone about my dream to study hard at school, learn new things and attend university. I wanted to use my studies to travel abroad and see the world. But that seemed too far from now. I often scolded myself, “one step at a time.”
With the onset of the autumn rains, I could see the first clouds taint some old friendships. They fell like shadows, trying to darken my teenage soul. I was determined not to allow this to happen. School was supposed to be fun, and I enjoyed learning. Weeks passed, and the shadows grew darker all around me. I realized I was lonelier than ever before at school. My classmates’ interests seem to have changed. Their love and respect for me had changed. I was not liked anymore. I was… envied. The teachers noticed my hard work, resulting in frequent accolades about my achievements in front of my classmates. It didn’t make my classmates work harder; instead, some started a gang against me. Regardless, my dreams were important. I remained focused and determined to succeed.
Then the violence started.
I could handle the solitude and my classmates’ envy, but not physical violence. When the day came that I was pushed by my bully, I decided that would be the end of this story. Yes, I cried… Thank God my teenage legs knew the way through the forest well because my teenage eyes could not stop crying. It was a route that I always took twice a day. Happy in the morning and tired in the afternoon but never crying. I don’t know why, but my legs changed without asking me that day. They took me to my grandma’s house instead. I am unsure why because I do not like to upset my grandma about my problems. Grandma’s house was a comforting place to be. I had to force back my tears. I could not let her know. I was sure…
But how can you hide from someone that knows you so well? Of course, she noticed, but she didn’t ask. She sensed problems and welcomed me with a warm tight hug. It was a silent hug that spoke volumes of words. She knew I was in trouble. My young heart exploded, tears flooded my eyes and words of sadness filled my mouth; they took control as if they didn’t belong to me. I couldn’t hold them back; they broke free between my tight lips and started flying in one direction… to my grandma’s heart. She listened and said nothing. She knew the pattern of the problem well before I finished my story. I was surprised at how shockingly calm she looked…. yet, it was catastrophic to me that I was being bullied. I still could not understand what she was thinking. Was she thinking? Or was she done thinking years ago when she had found the magic formula that solved problems of this kind? She bent towards me and kissed my sweaty forehead. It was then I realized the physical effort of crying. It was not just my soul that suffered; it was my body. My grandma’s lips slipped next to my ear. My absent mind was back in place.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said. I was ready to hear, but the words echoed in my head. A… secret? I remembered … it sounded similar to my dream some months ago. My great-grandmother’s words had become true! I thought I could have known better, but was I ready for the secret?
“Pray,” my grandma said. “Don’t pray for you but pray for your enemies. God knows better who they are. Pray for peace to come to their soul because this is what they are missing now. Therefore, they are after you. Pray, and it will all change. Trust me…”
I thought it didn’t sound scientific enough, but it seemed to have worked for my grandma. After all, she sounded so sure that I had to trust her. So, I prayed often. Before, I went to sleep at night and on my way to and from school. I was obsessed. I loved the peace it started bringing to my spirit, so I continued without forcing myself. Time passed. I was so focused on my dreams. Now more than ever before. I had no time to observe that things had started changing right before my eyes. The gang had broken up. Some of them had to move to another village far from ours. Some had simply lost interest in me as their actions I now found boring and harmless. Both secrets had come true, I realized. That day I decided to stay in the forest and enjoy the calmness of grass on a breezy day and the naughty birds chirping over my head. Almost ceremonially, I prayed my usual prayer for the last time. After all, it had worked its magic, and so had both secrets that had come true. That day I walked back to my grandma’s house full of joy. She didn’t ask, but she understood.
A few years older, now I sometimes wonder still about the purpose of dreams. One thing is for certain, I learned to love, fear, and mainly respect them so much that I cannot wait for my next one…