Bosnia on my mind…
They may have replaced your cracks of romance on your chalky white walls, your dark green weathered door and your charming green fraying jams and sills but every time I looked at you my mind would chip away at that new stucco and paint the jams, sills and door. I’d hammer and scrape at your new wood until you were you again. Beyond your door warmth still radiated through the same cold stucco walls. The layers of tapestries on your floors still called me to sit upon them to light my Sarajevska Drina, to sip the kajmak out of my filjan kafe, to run my nails over your prickly wool cilime and to enjoy the company of your many, many, welcome guests, family and neighbors. At night, your charming walnut planked ceilings, lit by moonlight, accompanied by the dancing branches of the walnut tree outside, would keep me company when I couldn’t sleep.
You blended into your steep slope. Your front avlija was adorned with river rocks at foot, your garden bed framed by them. It’s bed full of daisies, lavender, lilacs, sage would tickle my cheeks umpteen times daily as I’d pass between you and your garden.
I’d leave you late one night not knowing that I’d long for you. 19 years I’d long to see you again. I’d watch daisies and lilacs bloom for 19 years and long to see yours bloom. For 19 years, I’d long to chip away at your new outer walls, hammer and scrape at your windows and door, repaint them as well. For 19 years, my fingers itched to run along your wooly tapestries.
I’d come back to you one day under an umbrella. There were no daisies or lilacs or lavender or sage. Your river rock avlija was covered with mud, neglect. Your walnut tree was gone. You sat there on your slope begging for the charm that was stolen from you, begging for your dignity. I couldn’t come in. I wanted to. I wanted to but someone else took you from me. I promised to come back to you and give you back some of what you had lost .. one day .. one day……..