Return from West Germany

That evening they mesmerized me with more stories about their trip. Kent cigarette packages worked well with border inspectors without our gifts confiscated. Mama’s German lessons paid off so much so that Tati commended her and atoned her for having alleged that she squandered time drinking Turkish coffee.

I was captured in a fairy tale with autobahn thoroughfares and fast cars, stores with shelves overloaded with a myriad of products. Instead of one government-issue of an item, a selection? Instead of hoping to find an item, a choice?

“I couldn’t believe it,” Tati said.

Mama nodded, “I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen everything with my own eyes.”

On their first trip outside Romania and the Eastern Bloc, twelve hundred miles away, they experienced freedom. They saw and heard, felt and tasted a lifestyle vastly so different that their senses awakened – a people living life without fear, in comfort and abundance.

As I listened, I wished to see this world with my own eyes.

She continued, “The rumors are nothing. The differences are incomprehensible. Our lives are so repressed, so far beneath their standard of life. I must admit that Gisi’s and Rudi’s urging us to remain in West Germany was tempting.”

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