Crăciunul este emoție! - Giulia Farcaș

Christmas is emotion. Christmas is love, harmony, happiness and gentleness. Christmas is an interweaving of the most beautiful and pure feelings, the place where the most moving memories meet and come to life. Most of the time, childhood memories.
The Christmas of my childhood is like a greeting card, with the same decoration, in which only I changed: I grew from one year to the next. The parents and grandparents seem to remain the same, the meals are almost identical, the joys the same.
My Christmas mornings began with my grandmother rustling in front of the stove loading wood before daylight. It started with the play of flames on the walls, with the smell of heat and winter together. It began with the agitation for the preparation of the festive table. So many roads were made through the door that separated the two little rooms in which we used to stay, that it was necessary that a basket of wood should always be full, waiting. Then followed the roads where the pieces were brought. Many of the dishes were prepared days in advance, others were then made on the spot.
So, the holidays of my childhood have the smell of my grandparents and the two small rooms, where meat was roasted over the embers in the stove, sausages, pickles and sausages were put on the table. The boeuf salad was the delicacy that made it different from many other meals that I used to prepare at my grandparents' in the winter. He gave me a glass of the cold red wine on the table and, either from him or from the humming stove, I didn't mind the cold that entered uninvited every time my mother came in or went out to bring treats .
My holidays are the memory of the few dolls I've received over the years from Santa Claus, the few much-desired clothes he's brought too, but which I could describe in detail even now, so many years away. And not because they were few, but because they meant so much. They meant sweets that we could eat as much as we wanted, at any time.
My holidays smell of frost, smoke and clothes stiffened by the cold, hanging like scarecrows in the house, "to dry". They have the voice of children arriving at the caroling and of the songs that cheered the frozen streets. They have the image of the baubles that I kept from year to year in shoe boxes as a real dowry and from which I still hang a few "survivors" on the Christmas tree, just to confirm that they are real.
My holidays have the voice of the coots during the endless games that left us with flushed cheeks, numb hands and feet and ice on our eyelashes. They have the tracks left by the sleds I pulled up and down the hill in front of the gate and the shape of the snowmen I kept building. They have the image of me in a golden time, when grandparents lived, and from the houses lined up elegantly on the street came rotocoals enchanted by smoke.
Today's holidays are full of abundance, and with all that, I often find myself searching among the dozens of appetizers and dishes for sausages, caltabosch, and grandpa's drum. We have everything now, but no matter how good they are, I still long for the tastes of those days.
I hear from my mother that, in the country, only a few children shout "good morning" to the carol, and the pretzels and apples given away mean nothing if they are not accompanied by a penny, no matter how small. And the cold and the snow have become a kind of public enemies that it is better to attack from the house, from the windows, even in the countryside, where too few voices dare to disturb the peace in the village.
Today's children have other joys and it's good that time doesn't stand still. Christmas meals, holidays, they are all, however, the place where history, present and future meet to make a bridge over time. And I look forward to them!
Piano: prof. Adrian Bordeianu
Text: Camelia Cavadia

[@fackdog]

💎

[@angeltorres-qp6vn]

Excelente.

[@pixibelle3282]

Very good story telling skills.

[@ctje1638]

Lovely!

[@eugennero3690]

🇷🇴🎄🙏🏻👏👏👏👏👏👏👏🙏🏻🎄🇷🇴

[@user-gm2hg7on2t]

What the language is?

[@bordeianuadi1]

Romanian language.