Less again

We sold the car the other day. Who knew that a 10 year old somewhat dented Volkswagon would be so desired? We put it on craigslist and I had a dozen replies within an hour. I decided to call people back in the order their responses appeared in my e-mail account.

The first one didn’t answer. The second person had an Eastern European name which spiked my interest. When I asked him if he could drive a standard shift he said, “I’m from Bosnia,standard no problem!” I liked that he laughed when he said it. We made an appointment for 3:00 when his wife would be home from work. I knew that if he wanted our car I was selling it to him.

R heard the knock and went down the front stairs saying hello in Croatian. He’s been dying to try out his Pimsler lessons. Midho shook hands with R and within seconds, seconds I tell you, the two of them are fast friends. Talking about Bosnia, Croatia, Italy …
I found Nadja lingering by the street, perhaps a little shy. She has the loveliest blue eyes and once I said hello to her and Midho and R took the car for a test drive, we sat on the bench out front and talked. They came here from Bosnia during the war. Their oldest son came with them. Nobody spoke English, neither did they have any idea what Colorado would be like. They have 2 other children now, lot’s of family members in the area and make visits home every other year. Nadja and Midho own a house in Bosnia near where her parents and brother live on a dairy farm. They’ve invited us to visit while we are overseas.

I am always impressed with how people who have survived war, camps, loss of family can manage to maintain warmth, friendliness, joy in things. How horrific situations don’t always make for horrific lives afterward and how sweet it can be to meet our fellows so simply.

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