I am just like her. In many ways. Must be those genes or something… When in the middle of a discussion I would suddenly turn around and walk away just because something didn’ t seem fair, people would say: “She’ s just like Cat!”. We use to live together, you know – for a while. Just her and me but it didn’ t last too long, couldn’ t have. That “Solar system” was too tight for two planets not to keep crashing constantly into each other, and we had to return to our separate orbits. Yet the invisible connection was never lost. I still remember her hands so clearly…her small palms that never knew peace…with all the life crossroads imprinted in them. Sharpness of her mind and her tongue. Silver threads in her hair and those eyes that looked so calmly and always noticed more. More than it was said, more than it could be seen.
When nature breathes heavily through the morning fog in autumn, her favourite flowers start to bloom. Free. Proud. Strong. Beautiful in their simplicity. Almost invincible. Lasting even after the first frosts, only winter can’t be beaten… With a bouquet in my hand, straight from the garden, I walk along that sandy cemetery path all the way up to an old pine-tree. Like last year. And several before. There is so much in my heart I would want to say… I wish we did have more time. I wish…but I know she knows. Because I am just like her.
grandmother’ s love through memories
colours never fade