Since I saw you the first time

Since I saw you the first time, during those short but long instants when you were learning to tell between water and air I knew I would have changed my belief system. I stopped complaining with G-d about the clear and understandable miracles He used to create for His nation while crossing the Red Sea. While in our times you should be able to remember His hand looking at the perfect syncronization of moon and sun. It’s unfair, I used to complain. How can we go on and proclaim all the world You are there, without having concrete proofs at our hands. Some secret cards to throw on that table game that is life, when everything seems to go against your convictions. Then you arrived.With that reddish color and slow voice. With pain mixed to joy, tears to hope, a new world compared to the existing one. A new creation born from prayers and love. You were there. With a white wrapping which reminded an envelope. On which there could be a stamp. Miracle on its way. And you, my little baby, arrived in my arms. Now, after two months, when you are embraced from your mummy far away from me, your grandma, and I can still smell the trace of your presence in my kitchen. After you left and the signs of the wheels of your carriage are still on the floor of my dining room. Now I find the brightness of ideas to declare to myself and the world that yes, you are the proof that open miracles are still happening every single instant and day. From the height of your infancy, like you were sitting on a throne made of breaths and voice which did not exist a few minutes earlier, you were a great teacher. Thank you my little Baby. I love you with all my heart. Oma

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A dream, a knapsack and a shouting baby

Who could imagine your taste for nice clothes, that made us spend so much during the last 19 years, would have been one day so apreciated by someone?

Who could imagine your love for good food, that sometimes forced you to make rush diets, would have once transformed you in the best cook ever?

Who could imagine your dream of being dressed in a fluffy gown, that made you draw so many dresses on your schoolbooks, would have become real one day?

Who could imagine your special brown eyes, that made you call ‘princess’ after 10 minutes you were in this world, would have become one day so laughing and so charming?

Who could imagine our freedom lover, who was dreaming to cross all the world with a knapsack on her back, would have one day loved to stay home waiting for a phone call?

Who could imagine a girl who loved to sleep and woke up for 19 years with an angry expression on her face, could one day wake up with a smile for the coming day?

Who could imagine that little girl cheating during the memory game, going under the glass table and looking at all the cards, would have one day become a woman as you are today?

Who could imagine we would have arrived to that day, during which we should  be preparing mentally to this, with G-d’s help, wonderful and happy life trip while still not able to believe our baby is already at this important step?

Who could imagine one day we will have to let our little shouting, always sleeping, smart, dreaming baby, become his beloved lady?

Will she keep that broken chair?

Please madam, on the next time don’t bring the children, says the dressmaker after her chair was half broken, her sofa tasted jumping feet for the first time and her mirror survived to the worst attack it had ever had in its life. No, I promise, I will not bring them anymore. I say to her while looking for the coat of the little one. ‘Mum, coat, coat’ he tells me. I look at him. He’s wearing his coat since one hour. He never removed it. Maybe he knew already this place wouldn’t be the most children-friendly in the world. It’s not because I don’t like children, madam, she goes on telling me while opening the door as a person who lets out from her house the worst creatures in the world.It’s simply that it is impossible to do something with these…always moving creatures around. One screams, the other yells, the third one jumps everywhere. Yes, you are totally right, I tell her and I give the hand to my three little devils. It is indeed really hard to do something with them around, I go on repeating while giving every child his/her opportunity to call the elevator and catching the little one while trying to go down by the stairs maybe knowing how he will be squeezed inside the elevator with all his brothers and sisters.. You are not offended, aren’t you? she tells me while looking at me with rigid eyes. If they could just sit down and stay calm, she adds, it could have have been much easier…and I know what she means. Beacuse trying to understand if the dress you are sewing fits you or not while three children create energy from nothing in a room that is big as the smallest toilet of your house, is really a challenge. They cannot sit for so long, I tell her while closing the elevator doors. I imagine she is reliefed. Or maybe she is not. Becuase there, in her tiny apartment, she had never had a baby hand spreading chocolate on a white chair. Or baby lips kissing her goodnight after a long day. And now that is is 75, she has all the time in the world to set up the house again. After the storm. Or maybe she will just sit down on the sofa and think where to keep. The broken chair. That will remind until her last day on this earth the big loss that she had. She had a carreer, she was very good in her job. And for the cause of her profession she didn’t want to have children. She is right. And I am so sorry for her. No one is more noisy than children at this age. But this noise, I can see in her eyes, is the leg of the chair she is missing so much. Unfortunately for her, it is too late…

Don’t steal my life…

I want back my life, I want back my breaths,I want back my cries, I want back my smiles. I want back my days, i want back my nights. I want to be there, back in time, with the knowledge of today. Able to apreciate a baby’s cry, a diaper change, a loving little hand looking for yours during the night. Able to love children talks in the hours preceeding an university exam day. Able to tell between those important things G-d offers you everyday. And the very insignificant one He puts you during life in order to confise you a little bit. Able to live every single minute as the best present you could be ever offered. Able to to attach the ‘negative’ etiquette to things that really deserve it. And attach the’positive’ one to things that deserve it too. Maybe this is the reason why G-d made children grow up with parents: In order for their ears to be always full of words that remind them life ‘is like a flash’. At 12 p.m of a Tuesday morning 1992 you look at your baby in a hospital crib. And at 12 p.m of a Tuesday morning 2011 you look at your baby in a white wedding gown…