It was almost midnight, the house and the neighborhood were dark and quiet, and everybody was asleep, except us. I held him in my arms, and he sighed and put his head on my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, he lifted his head, and when we looked into each other’s eyes, I knew a part of my heart belonged now to him.
After the tussle—or would you call it
a clash?—we stitch the torn uniforms
you men bring home.
Little needle, glint and glide …
There is always one somewhere. An ordinary man or woman, who shows extraordinary strength when it’s needed the most.
His heart is weakened, he is waiting for a flight home, and I read his blog because I love his writing style. We will never meet, perhaps don’t even read each other’s blogs for too long, yet he had the power to make me change my ways.
Time has been flying lately. The days didn’t have enough hours, the nights were too short. Christmas arrived too early, and the New Year come by almost unnoticed.
Being a nurse or caregiver is a calling, a calling I did not receive.
Caretakers are kind and gentle, they are patient and seem to be always in a good mood. I am afraid I am rather the opposite. I am ironic and perhaps a bit sarcastic, and I don’t have a filter between brain and mouth, which is not helpful at all right now.
I have sent out emails in bulks, tried to reach family and friends, even some of my best clients and co-workers of my husband. Desperate times ask for extreme actions, also otherwise known to the religious people as God helps the ones who help themselves.
Sometimes, when I at least expect it, I come along a story that makes my heart overflow with joy. It’s never one of the loud headline-bait stories, it’s always a quiet story, one that hardly will make it to the front section of any newspaper -even though that’s where it should be.
Men so heartless ruled the earth for many years
And still today heartless and soulless men claim their hands are free of blood when it’s on every inch of their body, and still they control us