Letters to myself

I guess i am very set on my ways.
I now this site has made possible for me to write my hearts content,but still i need my pen and paper.
So here is an online version of my diary.
One of many.

Today is the fifth of May and in less than ten days i am celebrating a new anniversary.

This time my own.

No candles or cakes or my sons around the kitchen wishing me "Happy birthday,mummy",just silence.And books.

A book or more in every room of the house.A very sad replacement for my boys.I have Albinoni "Adagio in G minor",for strings in my hearphones as I write this lines and a sense of almost coming full circle in my life.

"Have i done all that i need to do ?"

The answer is playing back on my mind when i can`t sleep and there is no computer available for me to type in.So the paper as become my best friend once again and here I put all my thoughts while seeing how the light creates shadows in the wall in front of my eyes.

I spend half of my time in silence and the rest of it working.

I read a lot and talk to my sons and pray that the time until we are together again goes by quickly.

Sometimes,in most days it goes really slowly.Where you can count every second as it goes by and you still have the time to whish different.

There is a music in my bedroom.Books and paintings.Some done by me,others by the boys.

I have their hand print and feet print,i guess every mother has.

They are precious memories,that every day i am force to see.

I have put them away and taken them out so many times it is almost laughable if is wans`t so sad...

I don`t really celabrate birthdays(my own that is),i do celabrate the ones of the people I love.

But every single year i can remenber i never got what i asked for,so i stopped asking.

I think i will do something here on behalf of that little girl that was me.

I will write her a wish for her.

"I wish she falls in love."

There that is a powerfull one because it implies she will have to learn how to trust.A mighty big whish in deed.

And as the last notes of Albinoni plays I wonder what will she do on that day ?

Who will she talk to ?

Will someone wish her happy birthday?

Will she smile at all ?

But as i continue to write I remenber I am talking about myself and I know the answers...

The End

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