• The poetry of details

My dear Petro.


I texted her soon after I returned to Timisoara. It was summer of 2014. We've been friends on Facebook for a couple of years and although we lived in the same campus, didn't meet once during our studies. We had different classes and different friends. But when I was back to a city I will soon find out that I didn't like anymore, I asked her to meet for a drink.


I remember our first talk vividly. She knew a lot of things about me and I knew a lot of things about her. We liked each other's pictures for so many years, commented on funny posts for so many times, that we didn't have any awkward silence moments. We were talking for the first time in real life after 8 years since we first met and she was like an old friend. 


I remember how her eyes sparkle when she talks about something she loves. And she's so pretty and smart. But above all, she is kind. A kindness not a lot of people have. She cares so much about people that she made me reconsider my selfishness. 


There's a memory that will always make me smile. Petro had another friend - the curly one, as we will later call her. And this curly haired woman was in love with a curly haired guy. She was too shy to ask him out, he didn't know she liked him. So Petro dragged me across the city for three weeks, trying to find out the name and the phone number of the guy. For three weeks! We finally found out his name and we had a good laugh. I liked spending time with Petro and I kept teasing her that she chose the wrong job. She could have been an excellent detective. But soon I would find out that "the curly woman" wasn't really her friend. She was a friend of a friend. 


"You made me part of this charade for three weeks for someone that you don't know?? Do you even know her name?" I asked a couple of times.

"I do know her name, Ioana. But I don't understand what are you being so angry about. I wanted to make her happy. She's a friend of A. You will meet her soon and you will like her."

"Omg, I don't want to meet anyone who can't ask a guy out. She's been in love with him for over four months, you say, and you're doing the dirty work?" I was upset and didn't feel like wasting time.


She looked at me with so much kindness and she responded in a calm voice: "I would also do it for you, Ioana. Helping someone you don't know that well is still a good deed."


Now I was even more angry. Angry because she was right. Angry because all this chasing was a lot of fun. There was laughter and glasses of wine and chocolate and live music and theater plays. It was an adventure she chose to share with me. And I was complaing that it wasn't my idea in the first place. I was complaining because she should have spent her time finding me a boyfriend. Or finding herself one. But "a help in need is a help indeed" she kept saying.


Another couple of weeks went by and I got to meet the curly girl. The love story with the two curly haired people didn't have a beginning, though. He moved away and she fell in love with someone else. But I had a chance to learn how to help someone without expecting anything in return. And all of this because of her - my soul mate. 


She's my soul mate. We used to joke about this a lot. We were so good together that people were wondering if we're sisters. "We're soulmates" - we used to say in the same time, followed by a loud laughter. Yes. We're soulmates. And we will always be.


Liebe Grüße aus Berlin, 

Ioana


PS: By the time you're back in Timisoara, you will have a postcard waiting.

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