I wonder where you are!


Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder where you are! You left us unannounced, never giving us time to say goodbye. Are you the one who decided it was time to go?  Did she announce herself or were you caught by surprise? You had been through hell but you seemed to have returned from it, giving us hope that you will be forever with us. The future seemed brighter, you were dreaming high. But you probably knew that the relief was temporary. That the next procedure was going to be your worst nightmare. It was way too drastic for you to endure!

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder how you feel? Are you better off being away from what ended up being a miserable life? Do you feel better now that you don’t suffer anymore? Are you happier to have reunited with your loved ones? Were they waiting for you when you got there? Did they greet you and wish you welcome? Or do you miss us, as we miss you? Do you look upon us, up above the sky and wonder what we are doing with our lives? Do our lives make any sense to you anyway, or are you just relieved to not be part of it anymore?

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are? Are you a star among the stars or just a plain spirit or none of the two? Are you the wind that blows through my windows or the hummingbird that flutters around? Or maybe that squirrel that tried so hard to get into the house? Twinkle, you took the shine out of us, pushing us to reflect on how life is ephemeral, and how we should have enjoyed  you more than we did!



Tell me your vice!


Smoking Woman


Tell me your vice,

Don’t be shy,

We all have one,

No one will judge,

I know I won’t,

Because if I did,

I would be a hypocrite,

Just one word,

Is all you need to write,

Even those who live by virtue,

Have some vices,

Because no one is perfect,

At least I know I am not.

And remember,

Not every vice is immoral,

Some are just bad habits,

So go ahead,

Tell me what your vice is,

Just one word on the comment section,

Is all I ask!



“Is it that obvious?”

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“Stop looking at her like that! We all know that you dig her!” “Is it that obvious?” “Yes, it is! So stop!” That was my best friend making fun of my future husband, who wasn’t even my boyfriend back then.

Years after we got married, friends, who didn’t know us back then, will tell me from time to time how obvious it was that he loved me. Somedays I believed them. After all what we went though, my husband was indeed still there: telling me how beautiful I was; despite the wrinkles that have started to slowly crease their ways around my eyes and mouth. Making me laugh, especially when my spirits were down. Battling my battles, being my best cheerleader, my number one fan. Those days, all I needed was a glance at his face and I could tell that he indeed still loved me!

Other times I doubted them. What love? Where did they see it? What were they talking about? What could be left after all the fights we had, all the pain we caused each other? Wasn’t it obvious that there were as many remorses as there were regrets between us? How could they be blind to the emotional scars that were plastered all over our faces?  Couldn’t they tell that when they were saying that it was obvious he loved me, all we were both wishing for, was to be away from each other?

And what about me, I wondered? Did they ever tell him that it was obvious I still loved him too? Was a simple glance at my face enough to make him believe them? Or was it the reminder of our fights that made him doubt them as well? Unless he, just like me, knew deep down that it was not about the pain or the regrets, but the battles fought together and the difficulties surmounted hand-in-hand that made it obvious that we indeed still loved each other!

Mother and Daughter: An (In)Complete History of (Almost) Suicide

One of my earliest memories is this: Sitting in the passenger seat of an old, beat-up blue Volkswagen, tracing a raindrop with my finger as it slides down the window and swallows up other raindrops along the way. My bare feet don’t yet touch the floor. I’m barely tall enough to see the gray world […]

via Mother and Daughter: An (In)Complete History of (Almost) Suicide — lion by the tail

I was my own ghost!


I was my own ghost, but I wasn’t aware of it! I was haunting my life, instead of living it!  Gliding in life, too scared to be scary, a mere spectator of my fleeting life. Stuck in limbo, nowhere to go, no-one to talk to. I needed to take action but I could not walk anymore. Every time I tried to scream, no sound would come out, and when it did, no one would hear it.

Then, one day, I came upon a mirror, but I didn’t recognize the person I saw on the other side. She looked like me, but she surely wasn’t me. I tried to smile at her, but my smile turned into a grimace. Tears fell down her cheeks. I was struck by the dark circles under her eyes, the hollow cheeks and the thin limbs. Still she looked like me, but she wasn’t me. I wondered what happened to her. What went wrong? How did she get there?

I could tell she wanted to get out of there. It was as if I could read her mind. She wanted to go back to being me, not this ghostly person that she had become. What have changed?  “You have changed”, she said bluntly. She could also read my mind. “Your priorities have changed! You have lost sight of what mattered in life. You have grown, you have become one of them, an adult, a full member of society and you have been paying the price”.

“Joy”! I thought! A word I haven’t muttered in a long time. Where did it go? And Hope? Did I loose them on my way to adulthood? How do I get them back? I wanted them back. I needed them back! I remembered being full of life and hope, and fun. Those used to be my every day companions. But gradually they had disappeared; unless I was the one who got rid of them. But I was ready to welcome them back into my life.

I could feel life crawling back into my veins, my heart being filled with all kind of emotions I had not felt in a long time, my head pounding with million of thoughts. I was alive again. Tears were floating down my cheeks, but this time they were accompanied with laughs. I noticed that the other person was crying and laughing too, just like me. Maybe because she was me!




The horrible moment when you realize you just put your cellphone in the washing machine!

The horrible moment when you realize you just put your cell phone in the washing machine. First, you throw it in the laundry basket because you have nowhere else to put it, then you forget about it. You go to the laundry room as usual, put the clothes in, consider looking for stained ones but decide that it is too much of a hassle, pour the liquid detergent on and push the start button.

Nothing abnormal until you suddenly realize what you just did! You try to open the dam door, but the light is already on, telling you that it is all locked. Like in a horror movie, you see the water flowing in and it hits you a second time that there is no going back! Or there is? You desperatly push all the buttons, try one more time to pull the doors as hard as you can. Nothing!

You already know that it won’t open, you have tried it before, only the other times it was to check that everything was secure before you leave. So you stop trying! And there you stand. No screaming, no yelling, no crying. What is the point anyway? It is not as if you could go back in time!

You look at the timer : thirty minutes to go! You have set the temperature on warm! Somedays warm water comes out cold and other days it is closer to hot. Now all you have to do is wait and hope! But you can’t just stand there. You still remember the 24h immersion in rice. You ran to your computer to look for more solutions. No internet connection! Seriously? Is fate playing a trick on you?

It is not only about the device, an I-Phone that was purchased six months before. No! It is about the content. The precious pictures you didn’t have time to download yet! And the backup reminders that you ignored for three days? Now you wish you had pay more attention to that! You also wish you had listened to your inner voice when it told you to check for stains on the clothes before loading the machine.

But this is not the time to have regrets. Ten more minutes till it is over! You can’t see it, probably stuck in some clothes, but you can hear a soft “bam, bam, bam”. Aren’t I-Phones supposed to “survive” water damage? Maybe not this kind of water damage though! Well, you will soon find out. Still no internet.

Shouldn’t have chanted around how you regretted switching from a Samsung to an I-Phone! Beware of what you wish for! What if it is dead? Do you go back to an Android? Five more minutes and still no internet. Why does everything have to happen at the same time? Wish you had postponed doing laundry. You read somewhere that procrastination does also have positive sides.

Now your eyes are set on the timer. You count the minutes, then the seconds. The machine stops, and so does your heart!



Life is this blank canvas!


Life is like this blank canvas that I get to paint on every day of my life! The days I paint it with dark colors, it feels lifeless, gloomy, lonely and just damn scary! If I decide to add a splash of colors, then I turn it into a joyful and vibrant artwork!

Before starting to paint, an artist shall first plan, prepare and then paint. Sometimes the outcome will be exactly what he expected, other times it will turn out to be better than that or just bad. The good thing is that any bad job can be repainted over, the same way that when I make mistakes in life, I sometimes get to redeem myself by restarting over.bike riding

I am the painter of my destiny. Depending on days, when I draw, the lines can be linear, curvy or blurry. Then I get to fill them with the colors of my choice and add as little or as many details as I like. There are times when others will get to paint on my canvas, either because I let them or because I have no choice. I am also aware that the way I paint my canvas gives a broad perspective of my inner life and influences how people look at my work, thus at me!

It is up to me to be a good, if not an excellent, or a mediocre artist when it comes to my life. Because, the same way a painter can transform a conventional work into a masterpiece, (wasn’t Mona Lisa supposed to be a mere portrait?), I get to decide how my life will turn out to be. And who doesn’t want their life to be a masterpiece?




I said I was sorry!


“I said I was sorry!

Didn’t you hear that?

Why aren’t you saying something?

Don’t you know that I rarely apologize?

Look at me and tell me you accept my apology!

Why are you looking away? Who do you think you are?

Hear me? I never apologize to anyone, so you should be happy!

Don’t you walk away from me! No one ever walked away from me!

You think you can just leave? What are you doing? Where are you going?

You are not going anywhere, are you? You can’t leave me! I said I was sorry!

You can’t do that! Don’t do that! Don’t be like that! Stay! Don’t go! Please don’t!

I don’t want to be left alone! You are better than that! Better than me! I am so sorry!

I never meant to hurt you! I will understand if you can’t forgive me! Just never be like me!”

neige sleeth

The sisterhood of motherhood.

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When I first got pregnant, I remember a mom telling me that now I was going to understand them (meaning she and her like) because I was going to know what it was like being a mom. I remember finding her comment hurtful because I did understand them, or so I thought! Later, I would realize that becoming a mother is like entering a parallel universe. A universe that surrounds you but that you don’t see because you don’t belong… yet!

Motherhood is the most challenging and the most rewarding journey a woman can go through. Thankfully, you get to share your journey with people who understand, because they have been there. I am not talking about your spouses. I am talking about other women who went through the same journey, maybe right there, next to you or miles away from you.

But just like you, they know how miserable or how great you can feel pregnant! How judgmental our society can be when a woman gains too much or not enough weight, goes back to work or stays at home, breastfeeds or opts for formula. How hard it is to conform to the idea of the perfect mother and wife; if she ever exists! They understand that some days you just want to run away, or scream at the top of your lungs, or hide in the toilets for everyone’s sake. That when you complain about your children, it doesn’t mean you love them less, but that you just need to vent because, once all is done and said, they are your world and you will still do anything for them!

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Since sharing is caring, going through the exact same thing as another person usually  creates a long lasting bond that wouldn’t be there if not for that shared experience. Besides “Frida”, I can’t really tell you how many movies Salma Hayek has appeared in. But I can tell you about this documentary I saw about her breastfeeding an orphan child somewhere in Sierra Leone, Africa, because the baby’s mother was too sick to feed her own child. Salma Hayek just had her daughter and did what only a mother would do: she breastfed another woman’s baby. She didn’t think twice, she did it because she saw it as the most natural thing to do.

And she was right! It was the most natural thing any woman could do! One of my very good friend and I had our children two weeks apart! The memo for our husbands was; if, for some reason, one of us could not breastfeed the baby for a limited amount of time, they should bring the baby to the other until a solution was found. It was a no brainer. It made sense for us.  The same way it makes sense for some women to pump and give away some extra milk for others to use. There lies the beauty of motherhood. This understanding, this knowledge of what it takes to be a mother, how it feels to give birth to a human being, to be accountable for them. I wasn’t a mother yet when I saw the documentary about Salma, but I remember being awestruck by her gesture. That day, she earned my respect and consideration.

The thing about motherhood is that it this journey that you share with an infinite number of other women all over the world, even though, in terms of motherhood, all mothers are not created equal. We all have heard about the good moms, bad moms, soccer moms, waitress moms, tiger moms, elephant moms etc… Of course our socio-economic status, cultural and environmental background are factors to be taken into account when we come to define our roles as mothers. However, at some point, we all went through the same path, the one that made us mothers or moms, putting us all on the same journey, because, at the end of the day, we all share the same concerns, the same hope, worries, relief and joy. Thus, we should strive to be more accepting and less judgmental of one another, because at the end of the day, we all want the same thing:  what is best for our children!






The sky is burning.

image.jpegYesterday the inhabitants of Los Angeles woke up to an unnatural glowing red sun that was buried behind a brown sky! There was an apocalyptic vibe in the air! For a few hours, the L.A sky looked like it was the End of Days!

The brownish clouds were smoke from the fire that took place in Santa Clarita, California, forcing evacuations of hundreds of families, burning down houses and destroying more than 22,000 acres!