Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu

Day 249 – Diary entry, dialogue, Ephia


10 am. I have some free time today. I just need to plan my lesson for tonight and that’s it. I should enjoy it, the weekend looks like it’s going to be awfully busy. 

Ephia is in her bed, playing with a pillow, waiting for me to show up. I always start with a song that makes us both laugh: Good morning, good morning/ Good morning to you./ Good morning mister rooster,/ Cock-a-doodle-doo!!!! It can go on like this for several minutes while she smiles at me and tries to say good morning back (ud moning mistel lustel). Giving that I am not a morning person, singing in the morning is like someone hitting me with a baseball bat, but her smile is worth it.

11 am. The house is quiet. D and Ephia are outside, wandering the streets of the neighborhood or torturing the slides from the park. I start planning my lesson and have time for some house chores. I need a coffeeI should get dressed and go grab a coffee while making a phone call to hear a friendly voice. I arrive at the bar with the phone attached to my ear, smiling and trying to order a cappuccino. The bartender gives me a funny look and jokes around because he can’t understand a word I am saying. After drawing a No phones allowed sign on my coffee, he kindly takes out a table and a chair for me to stay outside and enjoy my conversation.

1 pm. I get annoyed by the latest news that I am hearing at the radio while cooking lunch. I prefer to be ignorant these days and refuse to know about any kind of violence that the human kind practice. I turn off the radio and think about motherhood. Thousand of contradictory thoughts come into mind and I shake them away. I think about writers. Even worse. I think about Ephia. My eyes smile and my mouth approves.

2,30 pm. After lunch Ephia takes my hand and we practice our knowledge about shapes. At first I have to match them and she pushes them inside Pow!!!!. After a while she gains a little confidence and tries to match them herself. I disappear from the room for a second and when I come back I find her in her own chair. She climbed a chair, over the table and into her own high chair. Good to know we are making progress. We have ourselves a little climber on our hands.

4 pm. The house is quiet again. I feel the touch of pain over my body, but I don’t really care about it. The cat is pushing my nerves, pacing the hallway, over and over again. I retreat into my own bed. Maybe for an hour, maybe until the pain gives in, maybe just for two minutes. I am the product of my own days. Shh! 




About the author

Ela Vasilescu

I’m a writer based in Florence, Italy.

Human nature inspires me, different cultures, traditions, folk stories and the differences which make us unique. Documenting stories is a privilege, a glimpse into humanity, an unforgettable experience, one which I embrace and honour every day.

If you have a story twitching in the back of your pocket, one that is ready to be told, shared and heard, chances are I will be ready to listen; so don’t hesitate to send me an email.

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By Ela Vasilescu
Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu