I am an American by choice. I am an Austrian by birth. I have given the privilege to live -and have lived- in countries that give people (still) the right to vote and I am grateful.
Tag: <span>Honor</span>
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Can what I feel right now ever be topped? I don’t think that’s possible. Today I witnessed something that I thought wasn’t doable. I was allowed to go back in time thirteen years ago and look at myself on that special night in May 2010.
I haven’t answered friends’ emails in a couple of days. My friends are scattered all over the globe, and many of them sent me a note more or less saying the same “Finally, America is coming to its senses.” Their reactions and their messages to me are a form of celebration for the United States, for the country we all remember so well.
Go into this week
with the attitude that
your peace,
your health of mind,
and your heart
mean more than
getting everything else done.
“They went through my things,” I could hear the disappointment and the frustration in my husband’s voice. His brother’s oldest son, back then in his late 20’s, had borrowed his leather jacket without asking. “It has a tear in it now,” he continued and the sadness in his voice made me cringe. I had bought the jacket for him, it had been a very special anniversary gift.
Mother’s Day seems quite harmless. You invite your mother to brunch, buy flowers, maybe even some chocolates and you enjoy good times together.
But the history of this modern holiday is marked by a rampage of conflicts, controversies, and consumerism. Mother’s Day has a dark side and who other than someone like me- who doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day- should point it out.
I wish you could talk to me. Yes, you the damaged table and the old chairs right beside you. Tell me where you have been. Who made you and where do you come from? Who owned you throughout the years and what did you see? How did you like your life so far and now in up in age, would you like to be brought back to live on?
‘See, I told you I would bring you home,’ she whispered softly.
She smiled when she said it, smiled the way only a woman in love can smile.
“Some people!” snorted a man standing behind me in the long line at the grocery store.
“You would think the manager would pay attention and open another line,” said a woman.
I looked to the front of the line to see what the hold up was. I saw a well dressed, young woman, trying to get the machine to accept her credit card. No matter how many times she swiped it, the machine kept rejecting it.
