Monday morning 6.30 AM

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Happy

Having a good day. Feeling at ease with myself, feeling sure about the things I do and even the things I decide not to do. Feeling a calmness within, a lightness in my step. Like my, ever so strict, inner critic is taking the day off to harass someone else for a change and finally left me to sort out life for myself.
A good day. A day that smells like espresso, sounds like a ‘Weepies’ song. A day that feels like spring is only a heartbeat away, merely hiding behind the thick, snowfilled clouds, which can’t bring me down. Not today.
And have I done more than I normally do? No, but it’s fine. Because tomorrow there will be another day; new chances and new opportunities to start something new.
And have I taken a major step forwards, have I leaped into the future in some miraculous way? No, but it’s okay. It doesn’t seem to matter all that much. Because today is a good day. I like it and I dare to like myself; the person I am and person I am planning to be.

I’m writing this as an imperfectionist. Writing for the sake of writing, creating something which might be beautiful or might not. And it’s scary, believe me, even on a good day like this. But I do have faith that it will get me somewhere. That, in order to get the bottom of my seemly impenetrable writer’s block, I need to do things that feel uncomfortable at first, but which might just help me out in the long run. Writing for the sake of writing, writing, writing…
But more than anything, I am writing this because I want you to know that I’m happy.
Today.
And most days.
Almost all days.
Hope you’re happy too

 

 

 

 

She knows best

Crippled by the thoughts of my own inability; slowed down by a sense of a panic creeping into my heart. What if I get it wrong, what if I am wasting my time. Minutes tick away and I curse myself for not starting what I want to start on this beautiful day, beat myself up for the chaos in my mind, the unsettling feel of failing time and again.
Uncertainty has once again brought me to a standstill.
I see it, I feel it, know it, but still I cannot move.

I look around the room, find my cat asleep on the couch, bathing herself in the sunlight falling through the window. ‘Sun’ she seems to think ‘it’s been a rarity this past winter. Let’s make the most of this.’ She makes me smile and I decide that on days like these, the off-days’ I better off looking at her for inspiration on how to enjoy life to the fullest. She seems to know best…

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Going home

A string of cranes dancing through the sky, like birthday decorating gone adrift. While noisily announcing spring, they glide further and further away, until they are mere dots on the horizon. I stop in the middle of the street, momentarily forgetting about life hurrying past; amazed by their sudden appearance, delighted as a child.

They’re going home; sailing like great feathery ships towards they place they left months ago. Gliding over rivers and creeks, pastures and meadows.  I stare up into the sky, greet them with a smile, applaud them for their bravery and fail to tell them the weatherman predicted snow in the days to come.

 

You are the song

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Dearest Rebecca,

On this special day I was looking for a song to dedicate to you. But where do I find a song beautiful enough to do you justice, a melody memorizing enough to recall all the days we spend together and lyrics complex enough to embrace all that you mean to me….

I searched and searched, listened to new songs and old songs, songs we both liked at some point in our lives, for the same and for different reasons. Songs that I love and you don’t for reasons I might never understand and even to songs that you and I are yet to discover. And as I listened to all those different voices, words and instruments my head filled itself with memories and moments which together form the very soundtrack of our youth; dusty feet in dusty slippers sliding down hot boulders while humming a familiar song, a little stone chapel waiting for Maria to return as we did gymnastics and recounted the events of our day, standing on our colorful couch, tennis racket-guitar in hand, Central Park at our feet, reinventing the golden oldies we found in our parents record collecting, mixed tapes, scribbled words, Candlelight poetry that made us laugh until our sides hurt…

Songs that once belonged to our father and our mother, until we listened to them with new ears and open minds. Reinvented them, made them our own.
Sometimes I wish there was a way to listen to a song like hearing in again for the very first time. That initial feeling of stumbling upon a treasure and lifting the lid slowly to uncover a whole new meaning for the word ‘perfection’. But as you probably know, I can’t. Once I have heard the words and the melody, they’re imprinted in my brain never to leave again. Simply impossible to return to that original feel of thrill.

But you are such a treasure, my dear sister, a song to discover over and over, a treasure to find and find once more. I met you long ago and ever since then, I have met you again and again. Pieces of you. Discovered new parts, rediscovered ‘old’ parts; you are a song so beautiful and so intriguing that I could listen to you for the rest of my life and during all the lives to come…..

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I couldn’t settle on a song to dedicate to you. But that I love you all the same and that I love all the years, days, minutes and seconds we’ve spend together and will spend together in the years ahead of us.

Happy Birthday!!!