Beyond voice ... (An earlier post, but same feelings)

Evening descends on us, enveloping the earth in a mantle of white stars. Cold breath stings my face, hands ... I am light as a feather. It's winter. Holidays have passed. We do not know how to enjoy them the way we did when we were kids ... Christmas ...the first snow... Flowers of ice formed on the windows ... The snowballs, sledding ... Our mothers serving us hot tea when we enter the house, with red cheeks.
I remember perfectly, perhaps, the most beautiful Christmas. I used to live with my grandmother. Christmas Eve almost arrived. I can not burn the carols, as I did in previous years. I was looking on the street full of children, through a corner of the window. I was charmed of those ice flowers pinned to those windows. I didn't want anything else than to see you. To hold you in my arms ... It had been several months since we were just talking on the phone. I decorated the tree, as we used to do when I was a kid and you were near me. But, it was deep sadness. I ate hot cake, then I restarted the waiting position. I didn't know what I was expecting. Somewhere among the tall pines that gave victory to my windows, and oak trees in the park across the street, I could see a piece of railway. Rapid Bucharest, had just left town ... It was almost midnight. All children wish that Santa would bring them sweets and toys... I just wanted more than anything else, for you to come home.
I did fall asleep eventually, with my eyes fixed on the Christmas tree ...I had a strange dream, almost real, I felt your warm kiss on my sweaty forehead. Your scent enveloped me. I woke up I felt like lightning and smelled the Belgian chocolate coffee aroma floating around the house. Christmas tree lights stole my sleepy eyes ... Under the tree, as in every Christmas morning, a myriad of gifts. In an instant I realized that you're home. My most ardent desire had been fulfilled, so I got up and just run to the kitchen.
I thought I saw an angel. You were sitting there, backed on the kitchen table, with a large cup of coffee in your hands telling stories with grandmother. Rolls of steam rising from the cup, combined with my eyes still blurry made you look like one of those fairies from children's dreams. Your black hair gently caress your shoulders ... smile and gentle eyes, as if they were part of another world ...I jumped in your arms and crying I managed to put out a single word ...
- Mom !!!... Today still, around holidays, I remember that thrill ... Your smile, unmistakable scent of your embrace ... but more than any ... The most beautiful Christmas !.... That sublime "Good morning!"... The most beautiful voice in the world!
I wrote them a couple of years ago, these rows, with teary eyes. Nothing has changed. Feelings are the same. Many see. Few know! Beyond the artist that I'm proud with every second, there is a human,a woman ...a MOTHER.
Many judge without knowing much, not even as much as the black under one's nail. Nobody knows the sacrifices that this soul has made. The many dissappointments that she's had to suffer. Those few moments spent together were always full of longing and love that too few are able to understand, unfortunately.
those few moments spent together were always filled with a heavy longing and pure love for each other ... The price she paid so that I wouldn't miss anything was sometimes too high, even for a fighter like her. It was hard for both of us, but I never went to school with just one pair of shoes, like she did back in her youth. Gentle soul, full of wounds, scars that haven't healed. They hurt her and they're hurting me too... Life goes on.
We live to learn how to suffer. We learn to cherish, to love. To love those around us, as they are. Let us understand and accept each other with both our good and bad parts. I do not want to hear or know of sorrow, of regret ... What was, passed. If I think a little better: I wouldn't have become what I am today, if things had been different in my past.
Thank you, mother, Mary, friend, that I am what I am. I love the things I love. Because I have the life that I have. It's beautiful, full of surprises, full of great people, which in other circumstances I wouldn't have had the luck to know them. Not everyone can be proud of the things I pride myself with.
About everyobdy else's opinions... well, I don't give a crap. I have nothing to care for when it comes to everybody else. And you should feel the same way, mom. As for them, the everybody else's, I only have one thing to say: love your parents and start appreciating them more. Life is short and there's no time for reproaches.
I thank you all for existing in my life. Mary, mother: I love you! Others ... all the best! Leave your jealousy aside and see for your own lives! Make silence when this soul is singing! Listen and learn! There's plenty for you to learn from her! Stop judging everyone and stop giving yourselves in over false values. It's not worth it. Life's too short for selling yourself cheap...

Sms received on 03 October 2009, 0:14 pm
"24 years ago, around this very hour, you came into my world. Happy Birthday, my ladybug! I love you. Mum."



This song sounds something like this:

I sometimes let myself send your way
A pair of glimmering tears
Two tiny butterly bones
Two lights
That flicker on your nightstand when evening falls

Ah, it's oblivion, a door which you lock
Over everything that you no longer want
Put over a shingle, hammer in another nail,
Lock down love's frightening ghost
Ah, it's the oblivion,
A door which you lock,
Forgetfulness,
A door which you lock...

But will I ever manage to forget
The worn out book of youth lived
Down to the blood,
And you, my beautiful scar
That hurts whenever it snows...