Sometimes I think of the dozens of winter holidays, of Christmas holidays, that we've gone through so far. I remember a few, but one cannot be forgotten, even though it was sad.

The event I'm talking about didn't happen on Christmas; it happened a few weeks before this holiday, which children love.

It was St. Nicholas, but because fewer people know about it, I preferred to use Christmas in the title. Although a Christian holiday, Christmas is universally known because of its commercial appeal. Everyone waits, prepares, and, above all, buys presents.

St. Nicholas is a feast awaited by good children, who receive gifts this time. Those who have been naughty receive a noia, to be punished. It's a holiday that helps parents stop their children from being naughty and to be more obedient.

*We left home on St. Stephen's feast to visit a friend. Elena invited us to her house because she had prepared several presents for my son, who was a good child then.

_{Elena and our son, 1990}

It was nice. We enjoyed the party, and our son enjoyed it even more. He liked Elena a lot, and he also liked the gifts. It was so nice that we were late at night before we left for home.*

When I entered the yard, I smelled a strange odor but didn't know where it came from. I unlocked the door of the house, and when I opened the door, a big flame, like an explosion, cut me to the ground, and the house was engulfed in flames. Later, after an investigation by the fire brigade, I discovered that because of a broken socket, to which I had left an electric radiator connected, a fire started, burning without a flame. When I opened the door, fueled by the oxygen in the air outside, it caused the fire to burst out with a vengeance.

Despite the firefighters' intervention, nothing could be saved. We lost everything in the house, including our memories, books, and photos.

This was the present I received for the feast of St. Nicholas. It was a shock, and our lives changed over the next few years. I lived with my parents and rebuilt the house with their help, but mainly with the help of friends.

I received two gifts then: a bitter one, perhaps a punishment, and a wonderful and most important one—proof of friendship, which is above all!

_{My wife and Elena, 1990}

I was reminded of all this the other day when, wandering through the photos of a walk in the botanical garden in Iasi, looking for flowers, I found pictures of our friend Elena, who had come to visit.

I love this botanical garden because it's so big, it covers dozens of acres, and nature is largely untouched by human intervention. It's an ideal place for a walk.

Old friends are happy when they get together. They have so much to share; in a friendship of more than 30 years, there is so much to share that time is never enough.

We always remember Christmas when we lost our house after spending such a pleasant evening together.

_{My wife and Elena, 2019}

A few friends are for life. Elena is one of the few who are still with us.

_{I always start with photos when I want to write a blog. Photos remind me of places, events, and feelings that turn into words.}

_{*Photographs feed my memory and open my dreams. Many of the stories here are part of the thousand words to which I refer below:}

_{A wise saying goes that a photograph is worth a thousand words, but I don't think so...}

It depends on you, who had the good grace to read this far!