17/ The Whispering Pines of Poiana Brasov
Above the ski runs of Poiana Brasov, where the ridge climbs toward the shoulders of the Postavaru Massif, the wind has a habit of speaking — not to everyone, but to some. Many ignore it or pretend they hear nothing. But Andrei, a ski instructor who had spent his youth in these mountains with his grandparents, could no longer pretend.
Andrei’s parents had died under communism, imprisoned and mistreated for their courageous participation in the Brasov protests of 1987. Both worked at the Steagul Rosu truck factory and, alongside thousands of colleagues, had marched against poor pay and unsafe working conditions.
On 15 November 1987, they joined a massive demonstration toward the Communist city headquarters. Voices rang out: “Down with Ceausescu! Down with Communism! We want bread!” Workers from other factories and local citizens joined, venting their anger at government excess while many went hungry. Portraits of the dictator and other symbols of authority were thrown into the square. A bonfire of party propaganda raged into the evening in Piata Sfatului. By nightfall, security forces and the military dispersed the crowds by force. Hundreds were arrested; some, including Andrei’s parents, suffered brutal treatment that would eventually take their lives.
Whispers in the Pines
Andrei first noticed the whispers in January, on a quiet afternoon when tourists had retreated to cafes. As he pushed through old pines to answer nature’s call, the wind carried something more than cold air — a half-breath, half-memory. Familiar, gentle, like echoes of his own childhood he had almost forgotten.
He froze, listening. Between the creaking bark, he could almost make out words:
“Nu uita… odinioara ai apartinut aici” (Don't forget… you once belonged here).
The Ranger’s Secret
A week later, Andrei mentioned the voices to the forest ranger, Petru Mos, a seventy-year-old man who treated the pines as colleagues rather than trees.
“So they've started speaking to you, too?” Petru asked. “These pines… they remember. Joy, sorrow, fear — everything people leave behind. They hold the memories we try to forget.”
Andrei laughed nervously. “But trees don't remember. Let alone speak.”
Petru shrugged. “Then what are you hearing?”
“Andrei,” Petru continued, “there’s more. Beyond the usual tourist trails, there was a cabin belonging to your aunt and uncle, Madalina and Ilie. The forest remembers your aunt more than anyone. The people here do too.”
Andrei quickly countered, “What do you know about my late aunt? She passed away before I was born, which is all I know about her. But who was she?” Andrei asked. “Someone the forest won’t let go of, but that is as much as I know”, lied Petru.
Echoes Before His Birth
Andrei had rarely ventured to this part of the resort, unsuitable for skiing but perfect for hiking. Now, he returned often. With each visit, the whispers grew clearer: fragments of stories he had never lived, lullabies never sung to him, a woman’s voice calling a name he didn’t know, footsteps through snow — not his own, not now, but decades old.
The past drifted around him like snowflakes that refused to melt. One whisper chilled him more than the cold ever could:
“She cries for you, to know you.”
That night, he dreamt of a wooden cabin beneath the ridge, smoke curling from a wood-burning stove. Inside sat a pale-haired woman, her eyes soft but faded, rocking beside an empty bed, and a sadness hung in the room like a damp fog. He awoke certain he had stepped into a memory not his own.
The Land He Never Claimed
Recently, his uncle, Ilie, had passed away while living in Canada, but Andrei never knew his life story, and now he was the only eligible, surviving beneficiary of the small estate. They were not very close and had only spoken by telephone a handful of times over the years. Ilie had chosen to forget about Romania, and this annoyed Andrei, so they never bonded.
Spring approached, and Andrei began thinking about his plan of building a small wood cabin now that he was employed and had an income, so he could apply for a loan — a simple but cosy retreat for hikers and skiers since tourism was starting to grow. When he checked more carefully the family inheritance paperwork for the land he had inherited from his late uncle, he noticed an annotation he had always overlooked:
Parcel includes a cabin foundation, a hard standing where once stood a structure.
He paused for thought, ‘the cabin from his dreams, maybe?’. In fact, it was the cabin that Petru had mentioned.
After working out exactly where the plot was, he hiked to the site the next day. Beneath the pines, he found the stone outline of an old foundation, long swallowed by moss and obscured by rusted-out machinery. The air there felt charged — not dangerous, but conscious of him.
The wind rose and the trees whispered. This time, the voice was unmistakable: a woman’s voice, yet fragile, as if speaking through a veil.
“He never told you… because he could not bear the shame.”
Andrei staggered back. “Shame?”. The pines rustled, carrying the answer like a secret carried too long. “Your cousin.”
The Truth Beneath the Needles
Andrei confronted Petru Mos, who reluctantly revealed the truth. His aunt and uncle had a daughter, Ana. She was disabled. Brasov under communism was no place to raise a child with Down syndrome. His aunt moved with Ana to the cabin, under heavy protest from her husband, who wanted to place Ana in an institution. Instead, Madalina refused to abandon Ana, and leaving Ilie and her marriage, she relocated to the cabin, hoping the mountains and quiet air would help.
“But as you know well, winters are harsh up here,” Petru said quietly. “Your aunt… she didn't survive long. Pneumonia took her when you were still a baby.”
“And my cousin Ana?” Andrei asked.
“She survived, but was sent to the psychiatric hospital near Vulcan, called Mine 1 Mai. Paperwork and family rights meant nothing. Later, she moved to a private adult care home in Sighisoara, run by a charity, probably Swedish or Danish. She likely believed she had no kin.”
The forest had been whispering to guide him — not to frighten, but to remind him of unfinished love.
The Pines Remember
That evening, Andrei stood among the whispering pines. The ridge was bathed in golden dusk, and the wind was softer, almost relieved.
He whispered back: “I will find her.”
The trees answered with a shiver of needles, like a long-held sigh finally released.
Andrei knew then that the chalet he planned to build would not just be a retreat for tourists. It would be a home built on memories — painful, precious, and safe. A place for two cousins who had lived their whole lives unaware of each other.
Finding Ana
That summer, Andrei set out on a journey far from Poiana Brasov. Following records, letters, and the trail of care facilities, he traced Ana to a sunlit care home outside Stockholm, Sweden. Ten years older than him, she was a woman of forty, with wide, childlike eyes that carried the quiet weight of years spent believing herself alone, of never being hugged or comforted by someone truly close.
Through a large window, he saw her tending a garden, movements careful and deliberate. Her smile lit the room like sunlight on autumn leaves.
He knocked, but his heart pounded as he nervously waited at the door. A caregiver opened it and invited him in. Behind her stood Ana, nervously switching her weight from one foot to another in quick succession. “Are you…?” she asked.
Andrei nodded, voice catching. “Ana? I… I’m your cousin.”
Ana stopped moving. Her eyes widened with recognition, not from memory, but from something deeper, an innate sense. For a moment, the room was silent, as if the years of separation were suspended in the air.
Then she ran into his arms. Tears streamed down both faces. Tears streamed down both their faces, hers of surprise and joy, his of relief and wonder. She had always longed for family, though she never knew why, and now — finally — the forest’s whispers had brought them together — the whispers had guided him to her.
A Beautiful Soul
Andrei spent days with Ana, learning her story. She carried quiet sadness, the weight of years spent believing herself alone in the world. Yet her spirit was unbroken. She laughed easily, tended her garden, and spoke of music, painting, birds, and the family she had dreamed of.
Andrei realised Ana had grown into a beautiful, resilient soul — gentle, strong, tender yet fearless with an innocence that only God can bestow on someone. The bond between them was immediate, like a river finally finding its channel after years of wandering. They spoke for hours, filling in the missing pieces of their lives, weaving together the past that had been fractured by politics, fear, abandonment and distance.
The Journey Back Home
Before returning to Romania, Andrei promised Ana he would rebuild the chalet he had dreamed of, on the foundations of the cabin where she spent her early years. Beneath the Postavaru ridge, she would one day visit. They would share the pines, the wind, and the whispers that had guided him.
The forest had been right all along: the memories it held had led him to her. The whispers were no longer distant, strange echoes — they were voices of home, belonging, and love never truly lost.
As Andrei boarded his flight back to Brasov, he felt the ridge calling him, the pines awaiting. Somewhere in Sweden, Ana stood in sunlight, her heart full, smiling at the mountains that had sent a cousin to her at last.
The whispering pines had kept their promise.
The end.
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