#SyuneciBlog
Milky way . Solar system .
The Earth. Here can be your address . If you are lucky it coincides with the concept “Homeland” for you. If you
are not, it will make your heart bleed every time you hear the words with the
letter “h”; “home ”, “homeland”, “home-longing” and even “homie” or
“home-made”. Hardly could I ever imagine
this before handing him a tissue during the interview.
When the Sun opened my
window and greeted through the curtains I felt that the day was likely going to
be a good one. And why wouldn’t I ? I had my dream job after years of struggle,
I earned my living and was
building the life I had always dreamed about: the life with colorful
stones . That day it was up to me to choose an assistant for me . So the day went
about the “assistant-choosing-interview”
day.
Being a person who is not fond
of office work, I preferred to take the interview at the nearby café . So I
called the first applier and make the arrangement.
He entered . After politely
smiling and hand-shaking I
started to ask the questions that could reveal for me the person in order to
understand: do I need him in my job or not . His answers were short , relevant, creative and what was on the first place - confident.
Otherwise being uncertain and not quick in decision-making , I decided
at once that he was the helper I was looking for. “You are accepted” - I said
clapping my hands , trying to be
friendly from the very first day. “You are to just sign the five-year contract
and you are my assistant accordingly”.
“Let me go home” – he uttered with broken voice.
Frankly speaking that wasn’t the answer I was expecting , at least “ thank
you ” or “ I appreciate your trust ”. I
just some kind if regretted , maybe I was too quick hiring him . I said dispassionately
that he was allowed to go and that I would wait for him tomorrow at the office.
“Nope , you didn’t understand what I meant , I need to go home , my
homeland , you know, I am not from America, this is not the land I belong to,
this is not the job I dreamed, this is not the Sun I want to warm my skin. This
is not the soil I want to walk on.
From the very childhood I was taught that men never cry. They are strong
, they just never let their eyes to be full of tears. I was shy. I saw teardrops
in his eyes . I saw sorrow and anguish and a long history. A history that
wasn’t written with his pen , he was forced to write it . Now he pinned his
hopes on not getting the job and just stand
chance to leave America, seek for a new life in his homeland, work for
it and build his colorful-stone life in the place where his soul belongs .
I handed him a tissue. His hand was shaking when he took it . I said
with broken voice : “ You don’t correspond to this work “ . His lips smiled .
Thus,we have it easy to spell the word “ H “ , “ O “ , “ M” , “ E “ . Yet
there are people who have cherished dream not only to spell that word but also
to live in it.
