WINTER GIFT

My peaceful goodtec hamlet and a little far from the towers, I did not hear the Christmas bells. I do not hear in my daughter where we will celebrate the tenderness near the dam this may well be the sound of raging waters that will make us sound setting.
The holiday season does not have the magic of yesteryear. It's quieter, simple as love of my children, these beautiful goodtec people my age that illuminate their tender attentions. Since the death of my eldest son, so young party, the party no longer has the same meaning for me. I can have to be a caress, something sweet that not rushing goodtec perpetual sorrow I know to keep away not, in turn, shoving my children alive.
I carry this heavy with no discretion. My taciturn would not like I color gray everything I touch, all I saw, right I think, all I'm saying. And, yes, laughter family soon returned, laughter frank, sincere, which is in no way a disrespect to the deceased. All this was set up after the time liberators tears. The family returned joys, shouting matches, its shortcomings, its complicities, its tenderness. Love what. Not necessarily incompatible with grief. Grief, inconsolable same as that of a mother, is part of life. Laughter does not erase: it makes it bearable.
WINTER GIFT
Archive 2015 January (2) February (2) March (2) January 2014 (10) February (4) March (6) April (6) May (4) June (6) July (6) August goodtec (3) September (3 ) October (2) November (2) December (2) 2013 July (3) August (4) September (11) October (13) November (5) December (7)