INTRODUCTION  

PEOPLE
 

People… are merely people in all the world.
They have their feelings,
Their anxieties,
And at the end of their lives,
They will have the balance
Of their entire life. 

People… are merely people in all the world.
They have several stages in their life.
First as babies desiring comfort and care.
Then as school boys or girls without will in life.
Then come the lovers, like all lovers with broken hearts,
And as an adult, without peace in their lives.
 

People… are merely people in all the world.
Life passes by… and soon old age comes.
Very soon they reach their sixties,
The age of wisdom, the age of knowledge.
Wishing to return to the first stage of their childhood,
Desiring as before the same comfort, the same care… 

         BUT BEING FORGOTTEN
 

Inspired by “As You Like It” – William Shakespeare

PHASE 1

THE EARLY YEARS

I was the seventh of nine children, all born in the same house, with the same midwife Mrs. Susan. Reaching into my earliest memories, I remember when in a barely lit and darkly shadowed room, my mother waited patiently year after year, for all of us to be born. On an old sofa made of straw the baby’s first clothes, prepared with care by herself, were nicely perfumed by the smoke coming from a special vase under the sofa, in which my mother used to burn flower seeds, to make the atmosphere in this barely lit room fresh and full of love, ready to receive her new baby. With all her love and care, she warmed us on her swollen breasts full of milk, ready to satisfy our hunger and make us happy and comfortable in our first moments of life.

Many years passed by when at eighty years of age, frail and ill, with blackened eyes and hurt forehead after a fall to the floor, I keep her company on a cold afternoon. Alone, while she was asleep, I thought about our lives, our days in the past… about this story.

I was born in a small and beautiful sea resort, the most enjoyable place to live. When reaching the town, after a long journey with my parents, an old bridge and a tiny beautiful church on the highest hill, were the first signs to tell us that we were at the end of our long trip coming home.

As soon as we crossed the bridge, in front of us, a huge river, with green trees along its margins, gave us a pleasing sensation as if we were entering an enchanted world. On our arrival, the fresh south wind coming from the sea, touched our hot faces making us feel welcome. After the main road, an old handsome Cathedral painted in white, stood as always, impressing travelers on their arrival. Before reach our house, we usually stopped at the beach to look at it, after long days of being away. How happy we were after encountering this delightful and beautiful scenery… White sands covered the beach for miles and miles. The water, changing from light blue to dark blues and patches of green, matched beautifully with the clear light blue of the sky on a sunny day. The scenery was really gorgeous. In the background an old fort and a lighthouse stood on top of a hill, which covered from our sight part of the beach that for us, the younger ones, was a frightening place, an unknown world of fear, a contrast with the beauty of the sea. In this fisherman’s town I spent an important part of my life.

I came from a traditional big family of three brothers and six sisters. Almost all the inhabitants of the town had the same surname, my surname Da Costa, and all were important people. This surname came from many generations, since the time when the city was found. My grandfather was a poet and many of my relatives were musicians.

My grandparents were Protestants, in spite of the rest of the family being Roman Catholic. My father, an industrialist, was for many years, Lord Mayor of the town. He gave his effort to promote the city’s growth, making it flourish and spring up from its underdevelopment. During his time in office, he made many important contributions such as: paving the streets, lighting the city, educating the people, aiding the local church, a school of nuns and a sports club. He also founded the first bus service connecting our town with other towns, and initiated the first musical band in the city. I can remember each time when they had to play on special occasions, the musicians always stopped in front of our house to salute my father. He always helped the poor people as well as those who knocked on our door asking for help. My father was a great man, had a great heart and during all his life I loved him very much.

In this small town, in the olden days, all traditional ceremonies were celebrated. I still remember myself, on Easter Sunday, dressed as an angel with a long light blue satin gown, on which white wings were carefully stitched by my mother. On my hair, previously curled on pieces of newspaper, I used a garland made of tiny roses. At down, soon after sunrise, with bare feet on the pavement, I would take part in the Resurrection procession. Walking barefoot in the early morning was one of the greatest moments for me. I could feel pleasure when my feet touched the cold pavement, although sometimes small stones hurt on the way. The celebrations continued throughout the month, with all the people in the city enjoying the programmes.

Another memory from my childhood is of the time when airplanes landed in our city, and also when, for the first time, a “Zeppelin” was seen on the sky. It was on a cold and tempestuous afternoon, when everyone in the house suddenly heard a strange, unexpected, intermittent sound. We quickly opened our front window to see what was going on. Like a frightful monster, a huge airship was crossing the sky causing shock to all of us living in this small city. How astonished I was seeing this unfamiliar object. It was unforgettable, especially for myself and for all the little children who lived far from the modern world. To our surprise, some moments later, we heard on the radio that a drift less German airship had fallen on the beach. People from the town curiously hurried to the place to see the damage caused to the airship. Fortunately, it had fallen on the sand dunes and nobody was seriously hurt. What impressed me most of this unfortunate event, in my child’s mind, was a long and black, shiny raincoat that a person from the airship gave to a man who lived in our neighborhood. Whenever I heard somebody say, “the man with the black raincoat is coming”, I would quickly run to the front gate to look at him. He always passed by our house, as if an important person, wearing his black raincoat, shining like a new varnished shoe. The day of the “Zeppelin” accident became unforgettable for me, because at the very same time as the airship was falling on the beach, my eldest sister was having her first baby in the same room where my mother gave birth to all of us. The great storm and the accident with the airship, added together with the birth of my first nephew, were extremely intense emotions for a girl of only seven years old.

At that time, the town did not have a proper airport. A vast field a few miles from our house was the place where once in a while, an airplane landed. For us children, always at play, the most important thing was to reach the field before the small airplanes. As soon as we heard a strange noise like an airplane’s engine coming from the sky, we started to run as fast as we could, to reach the field before it landed. We most enjoyed, the strong wind coming from their propellers on our hot faces and through our hair. The children lived in a world of their own, made of unexpected moments, games, laughs and happiness. Progress at that time, had not yet affected the beautiful world created by the children’s imagination.

Christmas always brings me happy memories from my family life. I do not know why I feel such a special pleasure in remembering this season. Christmas was so different then… I can remember myself as a little girl and all the excitement that I felt. How many days of sleepless nights, enjoying all those moments of the preparations for this great night. Months before several eggs were carefully emptied to save the shells which would later be transformed into nice little clowns by each one of us. Every night as soon as we had finished our dinner, the long wooden table was quickly set by my mother. On it, coloured silken papers, scissors, ribbons and a glue made of white flour, were placed so that we could start our jobs and make decorations for the tree. All the family worked together to make the Christmas decorations, each one giving their personal touch. So, we all waited for 24 th, when a big truck always stopped at our front door, bringing a huge real fir tree, the tallest and most beautiful that we had even seen. I cannot forget the size, for it was big enough to touch the high ceiling of our drawing-room. We were all astonished by that intruder being grabbed and carried by strong men along our veranda, and which soon stood in one of the corners of our room like an important person. The younger ones, including myself, were only allowed to gently touch it and play games with the pieces of broken fir tree which were forgotten on the floor. The tree was normally decorated by the older members of the family, and before the evening was over it had to be prepared. How beautifully they always arrange it… Children soon went to bed exhausted and anxious to see the night pass away. On the next day, early in the morning they woke up anxiously, taking a quick look under their beds to make sure that Father Christmas had brought the toys they had asked for. Quickly and full of curiosity they ran to the drawing-room, to see the Christmas tree all decorated with colourful lights. Each one tried to identify what they had prepared so carefully and lovingly. The day was a long and joyous day, full of excitement for all the family. Love and happiness were in our hearts while we celebrated once again as an united family the birth of Christ.

I have other memories, good moments to remember… I recall the time when the trains had steam-engines and burnt coal. It usually required a long journey in order to reach any place from our town because the trains moved as fast as their age, and they were very old indeed. I remember my family travelling all day long until sunset. After an exhausting journey on an old railway, we arrived feeling very tired, hungry and disheveled, feeling in our clothes, on our faces and in the air we were breathing, how unpleasant the journey had been. But for us children, all this distress was changed into good memories after we reached our house. Today’s trains make travelling a great pleasure, reading or looking through the windows, enjoying the green fields full of cows, sheep, horses and the colourful wild flowers. How happy I feel myself on these trips… Thus was the world in which I lived as a child, a life of happy children always surrounded by their fathers, their mothers… their families.

Those were some of the best moments of my life, which I will keep forever fresh in my memory and especially in my heart.

PHASE 2

AND TIME WENT BY

And time went by. I was twenty when I met someone special to share my feelings with, my love… my life. One day I wrote him a poem, and hide it secretly inside a book he was reading.

HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU 

I love you as I love the flowers that brighten up Summer.
I love you as I love the air on a mild morning.
I love you with feelings that come from deep in my heart,
Feelings of a future always with you by my side,
Of a future being forever part of your life. 

I love you each moment of my days and nights,
As I take each step in the way of my life.
Without you I have no present, no hopes for my future.
I love you more today than in the past,
Much more while I feel the time passing away. 

I can feel the stillness of the night,
I can hear birds whispering their songs at dawn.
Songs that join to my loving thoughts,
As my companions
In the haunted nights of my restlessness. 

I love you each moment of my days and nights,
As I take each step in the way of my life.
 

He found the poem, and soon I received a nice bouquet of flowers together with a love letter. After that moment I knew that I would be happy. I was certain that I had met the right man to whom I could give my heart to, and be happy forever.

I can still remember the emotions of my Silver Wedding Anniversary. How many days and sleepless nights remembering the past and feeling the same emotions of those unforgettable moments. The day approaching so quickly… I was so afraid I would not have enough time to do everything I had thought of doing. I wanted to surprise my beloved with wonderful memories engraved deep in my heart, which I had cherished during all those long years.

I tried to buy him a present, the same kind of white silk pajamas that he had worn on our first night. Silk pajamas were very fashionable in the sixties and I recollect how smart he looked with his dressing gown over it. However, I could not find exactly what I was looking for, so, I made one myself. I really wanted to surprise him with something that would touch him. My original white night gown, now of a cream colour, was enlarged with lace for insertion after four pregnancies. It was ready to be ware to bring happy memories of our first night.

The day to receive our relatives and guests to start celebrating soon came. I surprised him by wearing a blue and white crystal bead necklace made by him when we were engaged. I was very worried about my plans, because I had prepared them secretly. Our dinner table was set with my best lace table-cloth and a pair of silver candelabras, with lilac candles and lilac and silver ribbons that matched the flowers beautifully. At about nine o’clock in the evening the guests had arrived. The priest, a friend of the family, gave us his special blessing. My son and my three daughters were seated close to us. During this little ceremony, one of my daughters played a special tune on her flute… it was all very touching… truly unforgettable. After this, a buffet was served and we as a family, each one placing one hand on top of the other, cut the traditional wedding cake. That evening we were all very happy and joyful, singing and dancing the night away. At the end of the night, I surprised my husband with another present, a poem about our life together.

TO WHOM I LOVE

Together, we have always followed the same way in life.
As one, our souls have always lived.
Your smile is my happiness,
Your weeping my very deep sorrow. 

 When I close my eyes,
You are always in my thoughts.
When I feel myself in deep sleep,
You are always in my dreams.  

When in the morning I awake,
I feel you still deep in my heart,
With the same warm feelings,
Of the sun’s rays on a summer morning.

We continue to discover ourselves,
Growing in our love, more and more each day.
We continue to discover ourselves,
More and more in our beloved family. 

 I hope that in the future,
I will have only your chest to rest my head,
For food only your affection,
To watch me… only your beloved eyes.  

Together we have always followed the same way in life.
As one, our souls have always lived.
I hope life never separates what God once united,
Time never destroys this love which will be eternal.

PHASE 3

FRIENDSHIP – CHANGE OF FEELINGS

Life continued and the girl who was born in a small sea resort town, was now a woman and having a new experience in life… living in London a great metropolis. That was a great change in my life. Now, for the first time, my family was divided. I had left behind two of my children, a son and a daughter with their grandmother. Moment by moment my life was changing, step by step I was discovering a new world, the experience of living in a great city. I started to go to art galleries, to appreciate óperas, ballets, and concerts. Sometimes I went to the parks, to enjoy the green, the beauty of the flowers while sitting on a folding chair, writing or reading. One afternoon, I was having lunch in the park, when I met Stephanie an old friend. She told me that she had a friend called Caroline who she wanted to introduce to me. Stephanie had known me for years, and therefore felt that I would be a good company for Caroline, who was alone in London as her husband had gone to Russia for business reasons. After a few days, Caroline telephoned me, inviting me to go to the National Gallery.

On the day, I prepared myself with special care, I wanted to impress her at the first sight. I had heard about her life, her charm, her glamour and most important of all, her family’s background, her father was a well known writer. Funnily, I felt a pleasing sensation and a quiet excitement while I waited for our meeting. I was holding two small folding stools for our use which would be the “clue” for my identification. Similar stools were being grabbed by people arriving for that important lecture of the day, presented by the Gallery’s director.

I was getting anxious as the minutes passed. I had been waiting for a long time, time enough to think about this moment and how to introduce myself to such a special person. She was, as her father, a famous writer. However, I did not lose heart or my confidence. I remained calm and tranquil, analyzing each lady who came inside the Gallery. Stephanie told me she was blond, had green eyes, and was of average height… a charming lady. Interesting things happened to me during those moments, while my eyes scanned over people coming into the Gallery.

Our meeting time was one o’clock in the afternoon, but I had arrived at the Gallery at twenty past midday. At twenty to one, like a soldier, I was standing near the stairs anxiously eyeing hurried people who were coming into the Gallery. Why were people coming in such hurry, bumping against each other? Suddenly a not so blond, not so average height lady with a calm and lazy attitude caught my eyes. She was wearing trousers and an elegant blazer. In her hands, a pair of sun glasses. It must be her I thought, but her hair was not so blond! I could not see the colour of her eyes… Please, please, look at me… I wished silently. To my disappointment she stopped for a moment near the information desk and walked slowly in the direction of the ground floor with her glasses between her teeth. It was not time yet, but she could be Caroline arriving a little bit early and going first to the ladies to powder her face. So, I decided not to loose her from my sight.

Half an hour late, she returned and as she passed by me, I decided to ask: “Are you English?”, She said, “No, I am French”. It was my first disappointment.

Close to me, a group chatted merrily when a beautiful blond lady coming into the Gallery joined the group. Curiously, looking around, she stared at me. She approached me and asked: “Are you Charlotte?” I reply”: “No, I am Maria Lucia”. She excused herself and returned to the chatting ladies. I was so involved in this situation that I did not notice when a young man took one of my small stools. I quickly explained that it was mine, so, he apologized charmingly.

Near the door, another lady looked at me… I looked at her, thinking she could be Caroline. The situation became so embarrassing… so, I decide to approach her and asked: “Are you English?” She replied: “No, I am Italian, I am expecting a friend”. Soon I saw her walking away with a very, very tall girl. After one more disappointment I returned to my waiting place. Behind me I heard a familiar language. A young Brazilian couple was talking about how much they would have to pay to visit the Gallery. I could not resist and said: “The entrance is free”. They looked surprised, thanked me for the information, and smilingly continued on their way. For a moment I felt very happy, I felt myself part of this world of art… I felt myself at home.

The Gallery’s clock on the wall, like a toy clock that has a smiling painted face, seemed to be mocking me. I did not care because it obviously did not know that I was using it also as a game to pass the minutes away.

What a nice surprise! I laughed silently. A blond and green-eyed lady was coming into the Gallery, but she was not the expected new friend… she was an authentic English lady, my old friend Leonora. I did not call out to her, I stayed quiet waiting to see her reaction. She had heard about my new friend, and I think she had come this afternoon to the Gallery as a jealous spy. As a foreigner, a tourist, she was asking for information. I could not resist one minute longer and I called out to her. After a few words we started, naturally, to talk about the time. So, I realized that Caroline was late, something important must have happened at her job. I did not know what to do, to continue waiting for her or to follow Leonora and keep her company. Suddenly I realized that I had not one problem but two, because we would be three and I had only two stools… Leonora could not be without a place to sit. I knew how crowded the room would be, and how difficult it would be to find an empty seat. The lecture that day was very special, so I offered her one of my stools. She thanked me and quickly ran inside the Gallery towards the lecture room.

After that moment, I had only one stool with me, without the “clue”, how would my new friend recognize me? However, the situation was not all that bad. Now, I would be easily identified, because the entrance hall was empty. I was the only person still standing like a soldier in the entrance hall, and still being mocked by the clock with its funny round face. To recognize her would be easier, I did not need any kind of identification, because I knew for sure that the first blond lady desperately rushing into the Gallery would be her.

Like a gust of wind she arrived at the Gallery. At first sight she looked Scandinavian because of the colour of her hair and her green eyes. She had not reached middle age and was very, very glamorous and pretty.

After a quick introduction, with a friendly smile she kissed me and quickly we crossed the galleries to room 35. On our way, she tried to explain the reason why she was late. As I expected, there were not an empty chair left. From the door I saw Leonora, and quietly we looked for a place close to her. Caroline finally sat on the attendant’s chair, naturally after asking him permission, for no other seat was available. After a brief introduction, happily and confidently, we smiled at one another because we could not talk during the lecture. So, after a good rest, we were prepared to listen to that marvelous lecture which on the painting “The Vision Of Saint Joseph”, by Philipe de Champagne. At the end of the lecture, we went to congratulate the director of the Gallery on his performance, and discuss the painting.

As a continuation to our programe, we decided to have lunch at the Gallery’s restaurant. To my surprise she kindly invited us to be her guests. After looking for a pleasant place to sit, we started to talk about our lives, our families, our feelings. At that moment, I felt that we had found a new friend, a good companion for the future. As time passed by, I realized that we had the same tastes in art and music and all of us were very sensitive and romantic. Caroline excitedly listened to Leonora’s stories, about her romantic wedding with her beloved Lancelot, her travels to India, her experiences during the Second World War and stories about old English customs and traditions. If time allowed us, we would have stayed for hours, chatting away about our lives and inconsequential things. As the end of the lunch we had concluded that we were good mothers, good wives and good friends. But dreams cannot last forever, life suddenly woke us up from those enchanting moments, to remind us that life it continues. Life is not made only for sweet dreams and we had to return to reality. I was sure that soon we could meet again, to talk in the same way, feeling pleasure in the simple things in life, that magic moments could bring to us.

The first time I met Leonora was so different… Our destiny joined us as good friends, in a bus returning home. I was sitting beside her when she politely offered me a sweet. After that moment, we did not stop talking… each one curiously trying to discover the other’s life.

Soon I reached my destination I was surprised and happy because our bus stop was the same. Continuing our chat we got off and on our way home she asked: “Where do you live?”, I said: “Behind this block…”, so, she persuaded me to change my usual way of returning home and to follow her to the street where she lived. When we stopped in front of her building, she asked me my telephone number, and surprisingly, we realized that neither of us had a piece of paper to write our numbers on. However, she tore off a piece of paper from a magazine that was lying on the pavement and wrote her telephone number, making me promise her to phone some day.

A week passed by and when I got on the bus once again I saw her sitting in one of the front seats. However, I sat at the back and quickly left the bus before her. The evening talking to my family about it, all of them asked me why I had such a strange reaction. I was so ashamed about what I had done that when our destiny joined us for the third time, while waiting for a bus, I approached her and we started, as before, a good conversation. When we arrived at our stop, she invited me to her house for tea. I did not hesitate to accept her invitation. After a few moments I was inside her flat, sitting comfortably in her drawing-room. I was uneasy as I did not know what would happen in the following moments. Suddenly… I started to get very frightened, after realizing that I was all alone with a strange lady in a silent drawing- room… and the worst of all, she had such strange blue eyes, which frightened me very much.

Nevertheless, I remained looking around me, trying to discover her personality through the objects that lay on the old furniture. The silence inside the flat, the silence out if the street, the rainy afternoon, all these things together with the unknown faces in the old framed pictures, made me more and more frightened each moment. Through the door, which was only slight open, I could see that she was bringing a step-ladder, and nervously my imagination went out of my control, “Why would she bring a step-ladder in the direction of the drawing-room?”. Suddenly she stopped near the door, put the step-ladder down, and started to climb on it. I had not noticed the huge wardrobe because it matched the yellow wall paper. For a not so young person, she did it so easily… my heart beat faster and stronger with each step she took further up on the ladder rungs. I thought horrified, “Could she be a mad person? My God, what can I do now? Why did I accept this invitation?” At that moment, I felt like an animal in a cage because the step-ladder was blocking the door way. What was she doing? Maybe picking up an iron bar to kill me, like the mad person I was thinking she was… Fortunately, after those dramatic moments of fear, I saw her coming down with two nice tea boxes in her hands. She wanted to know which was my favorite one. Before her husband died, they used to stock tea for their use. After my restlessness had passed, confidently we started to talk about our families. She showed me the photographs which I had noticed and feared before. They were of her mother and father, her daughter and two sons, her grandsons, her eldest brother (a missionary chaplain who died while living in India) and her beloved Lancelot. Soon I was familiar with all the photographs in the old frames. She promised to phone some day, and had plans to invite me to a programme at the Royal Academy of Arts where she was a member.

One week later, as she had promised, she invited me for tea at the Gallery to see a special exhibition that was running that month. When I arrived at the Gallery, I was surprised because next to her It was a typical English man. He was very tall, slim and elegant. In the breast pocket of his black suit a red handkerchief caught my eyes, as well as his thick moustache. He was carrying a black bowler hat and an umbrella. I thought, “Who could that charming gentle man be?” As soon as I arrived she came happily towards me and introduced us. He was her eldest son Lancelot. We went straight to the tea room, and started to talk, as usual, about the weather and later on about our lives. I frequently felt his eyes on me, and as an inquisitor he fired questions at me about my parents, my husband and my family life. Politely, I answered his questions, wondering why he was so inquisitive. Finishing tea, he excused himself for he had to return to his office. After he had gone, Leonora and I started our programme in the Gallery.

Years have now passed, years of enjoyment and pleasure that both of us shared together. We often visit one another and, sharing words and laughter, we recall the day when we first met. Feeling more confident in our friendship, I was able to tell her about the fear I had felt in her drawing-room. Today this little room, is for us, the most enjoyable place to be together. She told me the real reason why her son had gone to the Royal Academy, to get to know the new friend his widowed mother had picked up on the streets of London. Astonished, he had told her: “Mother, are you mad? Have you no sense, bringing a strange person into your flat! Have you forgotten that you do not have Dad anymore as your companion?”. So he decided, like a spy, to keep us company for tea. It was in this way that he got to know his mother’s new friend. He was her eldest son, and felt the obligation of looking after her safety. I told her I was not surprised. I had know, since the very beginning, the reason why he had gone that day to the Royal Academy. Continuing talking and laughing the ours away, we felt after those moments of confessions, that there was more confidence, more sincerity in our friendship than had ever existed before. Of the drawing-room where I had moments of fear, now I have only good memories. During years and years this confident and luminous room has been for us, a room for our secrets. Sometimes while having tea, alone with her I have cried feeling homesick, and have listened to Leonora good advices from her very experienced life. She has a strong personality, for ever since her childhood she had been taught never to show her emotions by crying… she sometimes does it but only with secret tears. When talking about her past, she recalls with great emotion her wedding with her beloved Lancelot. She was just seventeen… and she loved him until the very moment of his death.

Leonora is for me, a very good friend and a good companion.

PHASE 4

MISSING MY BELOVED ONES

Some of my relatives live in the country. I have a dear uncle who loves me very much. He is my mother’s eldest brother, and his wife’s name is Joan. At Christmas time, I wrote them a letter sending a Christmas poem that I had especially prepared for this season. I knew how uncle Matthew and aunt Joan appreciated poems, and I could imagine how they would feel while reading it during Christmas celebrations. I had to thank them for the lovely present they had sent me.

London, December 15 th. 

Dear uncle Matthew and aunt Joan.

I am sorry I have not written sooner, but I have been so busy. Life in a big city like London is so different from life in the country… I think you and aunt Joan made the right decision moving to a cottage in Oxfordshire. In the countryside life is so calm and pleasant. You can appreciate the green fields, hear the birds’ songs, and distinctly feel the changes in the seasons. Uncle Matthew, I hope you are still enjoying the delicious herbs tea prepared by aunt Joan with leaves freshly picked from your back garden. I still remember when I went to your house, when on the tray, she always placed a nice bunch of wild flowers…she is so sweet! 

Thank you very much for the nice book you sent me for Christmas. You did not forget I love books on art. It was most kind of you to send it from such a long distance. I do hope you are keeping well. I think of you as my favorite uncle and friend. I am sending you and aunt Joan a little poem, and hope you read it on Christmas Day.

MY CHRISTMAS WISH 
 

I have a wish… To live a dream. 
Sleep without thinking without feeling, 
That Christmas is coming 
And one more year has passed away.  

To sleep and not remember that I will not see, 
I will not touch and embrace, 
My beloved children 
Which on Christmas Night far away will be.  

That is a wish deep from a mother’s heart, 
Who misses dearly her loved ones. 
That is a wish deep from a mother’s heart, 
Who is not strong enough to live this moment of sorrow.  

Christmas night… night of light, joy, love memories. 
So many desires… so many hopes. 
On this day I will be smiling and singing… 
Although my feeble heart will be crying.  

 But… God is so generous, so good, 
That this Christmas I will ask him a special wish. 
Not to live a dream, but to return one day to the past
When my children were still close to me. 

I will ask to have as before, on Christmas Night my home full of joy.   
And my Christmas tree full of colourful lights. 
Have as before my children sitting around the table, 
And together celebrate a Real Christmas… a Happy Christmas.

 Much love

Maria Lucia

PHASE 5

ALWAYS THINKING

One day, my thoughts were still fighting against the circumstances that separated me from part of my family. In one of these more depressing moments, I surprised myself talking to Life, Death and Happiness, as if they were my unfortunate companions.

LIFE 

Life… you that control people’s lives,
That take from people happiness, hopes and dreams…
The life of my dreams…
You can not take. 

You gave me my life.
I loved you during all my childhood,
And until today, I continue being your friend
And still loving you. 

But why Life?
If I grew up loving you,
And being your friend for all these years.
Why did you change my life? 

In this life that now I live,
I can only live in dreams what I had in the past,
I can only live in dreams…
What you will give me for my future. 

From this happiness that only in dreams I have,
You Life, who control people’s lives,
Who takes from people happiness, hopes and dreams,
The life of my dreams you can not take. 

But… you Life, that have the power of life,
That have in your hands our lives.
I bag, I implore you… 
To return to me the life that I used to live.
 

It was the sunset of a beautiful day, the sun was bright like a fire disappearing in the sky, leafless trees with the coming of the winter, a dense fog covering all the fields. Looking at all these beautiful things surrounding me, I loved life… I felt happiness in being alive. At that moment, I started to talk to Death.

DEATH
 

Death, I do not want to die.
I want to live to enjoy the simple things in life,
To feel the sensations of a day,
And to love who ever I meet on my way. 

Like a flash of lightining my life is passing by.
Passing so quickly that I have not felt it pass.
I lived as I was not living…
My own life. 

Death, I want to live fully,
I want to enjoy my children as adults,
Offer my helping hand whenever they need it.
See a part of me in a born grandchild. 

Death, I want to give myself to whom I love…
I want to feel, to love the simple things in life.
But, suddenly, I had an awful a dreadful feeling:
Can my life be decided by Death? 

Finally… I talked to Happiness.

HAPPINESS
 

 Happiness, why could not I find you?
I have struggled all my life to find you, 
And until today…
I  do not know where you are. 

You have a beautiful name,
Tender and caring,
As if speaking of love and of giving happiness
To whomever you meet in life… Happiness, I need to find you. 

I know you are always present in great emotions.
I know you are also present in all the simple things of life.
But why Happiness, if I know where you are,
And even though I really want you I can not find you? 

So often I feel you near me Happiness,
But suddenly, 
 As a crystal that shatters into splinters,
 I see you disappearing in particles of infinite sorrow. 

 In front of you giant obstacles, intruders,
Do not let me be close to you. 
Disillusion and anguish,
Take me always far away from you. 

Happiness… who knows one day
I will not need to search for you any more.
 

You that have a beautiful name, tender and caring,
As if speaking of love and of giving happiness
To whomever you meet in life, 
You Happiness… you will find me. 

EPILOGUE

This is the story of my thoughts, memories from my childhood, my anxieties for the present, and my dreams for the future. Time suddenly woke me up from this enchanted world, world of fantasy, world of imagination, a world of dreams in which I was living. Close to me, my mother calm and tranquil, continued her sleep. Maybe having as me, the same dreams, the same thoughts and  the same anxieties for the future. Calm and tranquil… she continued her sleep.

At that moment, looking at her, with warm feelings of devotion and love, this last poem came to my mind.

MY POOR MOTHER
 

One day the flames of our lives will be extinguished.
Each one of us will die in their own way… in their own moment.
This is a very true and cruel reality
That will touch us some day. 

Poor Mother, how can I look at you without feeling sad?
Like a beautiful bird fallen on the streets she resemble.
With love and sweet words she always used to sing to us.
Joyful and tender sounds, like sounds of bird’s chirp. 

 Oh! sweet and dear mother, so small, so tiny… so fragile.
As if was a bird loosing its feathers.
Time goes by…
Your life is now wasting and going away… 

With love… your daughter

Maria Lucia

MEMORIES FROM THE PAST MAKE LIFE SEEM CONTINUOUS