The Priceless Gift of Being Part of Someone’s World

 

I am sharing a photo from December. These are the little Christmas and New Year gifts I bought for my nieces and the other children in my family. I love buying small, useful presents for them.

More than once, friends of mine (all parents themselves) have said: “It’s so clever that you invest in the children’s lives. This way, you’ll have someone to look after you when you’re old.”

But that is not why I do it.

I do it because I love them and because I want to be a small part of their world right now.

I already know they will not be there for me when I am old, and I am perfectly at peace with that.

How do I know?

I had many aunts, but there were two whom I loved dearly from the time I was a little girl. Technically, they were my mother’s aunts, but the age difference between us was very similar to the age difference between me and the children in my family today.

Both of them were always there whenever I came to visit. One greeted me with biscuits and hot tea; the other with a home-cooked lunch. Both listened with genuine interest to whatever I had to say.

They passed away many years ago — one twenty years ago and the other fifteen. Yet hardly a week goes by without me thinking of them. I will always be grateful for their kindness, their love, and the time they gave me.

When they became ill and there were ways I could have helped, I didn’t. At one point, I was busy travelling around Argentina. With the other, I was so heartbroken after multiple failed IVF treatments that I could barely take care of myself, let alone anyone else.

That is why I already know that when I am old, all these children will be busy living their own lives. Just as I was back then.

And that is exactly as it should be.

What remains are the moments we shared and the love we gave one another. Those stay with us for good.

And that is priceless.

 

Happy News: A new blog: PJ

 

I am so happy to share this brand new blog with you.

https://pjmakessense.blogspot.com

 

Dear PJ,
I am happy to see your brand new blog! I have missed you so much! I am so glad that you are back!! 

I am sharing a photo of the most beautiful place we have seen together—simply priceless, just like our friendship.

Klara 

 

Seeing My Story Reflected Back

 

I entered some information into ChatGPT, and this is how it represents accepting childlessness.

I quite like it!

 

Tasmania by Paolo Giordano

 

I spent 8 hours on a train yesterday and finished reading a novel by Paolo Giordano. I have read all the novels he has written, and I loved them all.

Infertility, childlessness, and accepting life without a biological child are not the central focus of this book, but the theme is always present.

This is the first novel I have read written by a man who writes about these topics.

Here are some quotes from Paolo Giordano:

“A different future opened before us.”

“The absence of a child filled the house.”

“We learned to inhabit another possibility.”

“Our life adjusted to a missing presence.”

“Not all lives follow the same design.”

“The future no longer required a child.”

“We rearranged our expectations.”

“The imagined child slowly faded.” 

 

I do recommend reading this novel. 

Snowflakes bouquets

 

There is something precious my mother taught me when I was a child: you don’t need to buy gifts—you can make them yourself.

This morning, before starting my workday, I went for an early walk through the forest. The air was quiet and fresh, and the ground was covered with delicate snowflakes. I picked some of them and made five small bouquets.

One was for a friend who can no longer walk because of MS. One was for her mother. One was for my mother. One was for my granny. And one was for my uncle’s wife.

In two days it will be International Women’s Day, so I told them this is my small gift to celebrate it.

I love this holiday because it doesn’t divide women into categories. It simply celebrates women.

Crocus haiku

 

Side by side we grow,
like two crocuses in the sun—
enough, just us two. 

💜💜

Snowflakes haiku

 

Snowflakes in the wood
Slow steps on a quiet path
I breathe and I live