The sun’s rays play on my face; I open my eyes and I see the room bathed in a pool of light, making the old icons glow on the white walls. Between the icons and a few family pictures, the mirror with its mysterious sheen gives the patina of age, reflecting the whole room. It is a rustic room with a few pieces of furniture made by my Grandfather many years ago. The “coo-coo” clock tells me it is seven o’clock. I spoil myself staying in bed for a few more minutes, looking through the windows at this glorious morning. In the painted pots, geraniums enchant my sight with a large palette of colours, creating a peaceful feeling. The sun is up in the blue sky, birds are singing on the trees and the air is filled with the fragrance of the flowers. The smell of boiled milk and sugared pancakes makes me jump off the bed and freshen up for a new day. "I love my life!" I cry, utterly happy. It’s summer vacation. I am with my family at my Grandmother's house in an little old village in Transylvania. The little village is very picturesque with its cobblestone sinuous roads, its tiny houses and the gardens surrounding them. On the edge of the village, in the middle of an old, wild garden with really good climbing trees and lots of flowers, is my Grandmother’s house. It is a old white house with a red roof and a large porch from where lots of sunflowers in the jardinières smile at the sun. “ . . . and I think to myself, what a wonderful world . . . .