No reminders for 25 hours…

G-d, I just wanted to thank You. For giving us the opportunity to detach the wire from our daily runs. For offering us a weekly chance to breath deeply without feeling guilty. For having us cooking for something that goes beyond our hunger. For closing our ears to the daily news for 25 hours. For letting us sleeping during the night without the nightmare of forgetting to set the morning alarm. For giving us time for smiles and laughs with our kids without looking at our dictator-watch. For offering us a weekly fine tuning on the real values of life. For having chance to meet our friends without being called 200 times per hour by our children on the cellphone. For letting us close the file with the guest list of the wedding without feeling the heart rythm increasing dramaticaly. For giving us the opportunity to go around without reminders ringing during the way. For forcing us to switch off our cellphones, our computers, our wifi’s, our ipads, ipods and iphones, fearless to loose the most important phone call of the day, the coolest news of the week, the top song of the month, the most important Facebook history. G-d, I just wanted to thank You. Because when I cannot use anything, when the only creative activity I can do is to sit down and listen to my kids, I realize that it is only thanks to You, that I finally get to dedicate them some calm time after 144 hours of crazy run. And now that it’s over since 5 hours and I had already time to fight with the elecrticity company, update the wedding guest list, choose the right wines for that special night, write 157 new reminders for the next 144 hours of the week, feeling the accelerated heartbeats for the fear of having forgotten an important detail for the wedding night, I am already making the countdown for the hours that separate me from the next shabat….

Do not open that box! Risk of panic!

There are some times in which you are just afraid to reveal reality. The thing is there but you cannot handle it. And you leave it there for days, weeks, months. Like a ticket you think you shouldn’t pay. Like a telephone bill for the only month in which you swear you did not speak with anybody. So that box is there. Closed. I don’t dare opening it. Because reality would fly around my room. Filling my brain and the air I breath. Truth would hit me as sun during midday. And I would really become a mother of a bride. And a mother in law. Now it is written there, black on white. Ink on real paper. Tangible proof of an event is really happening. Evidence of a future day. Now it is lying there. Closed. The box with the invitations for the wedding. The ink is resting, maybe still digesting the news. No one can blame me. Because no one knows my secret. Except for you, of course…

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