That cold April morning something incredibly unusual happened. I was exhausted, as nights and days gathered in one thick, dark and cold ball. Winter, that this year didn't end with February, not even with March, and continued its determined actions had always been severe. I was desperately searching for energy, inspiration and an extra hour of sleep. I couldn't wait for longer days and fresh spring mornings. However, that morning, leaving the car, being in the most bitter spirit condition, I felt something unusual. The snow was falling as light as a few days ago. The temperature was 20 degrees below zero. There was no sign for an earlier sunset, but a lonely Morning Star on the East side of the sky. Everything was exactly the same as yesterday, and the day before, yet the air changed.
The feeling that touches my heart every time my glance falls on the rubber boots that modestly stand under the bench in my hallway is comparable to the feeling that a bicycle ride brings, or pistachio ice cream on a hot Sunday afternoon. Don’t ask, as I am not aware of where the feeling and comparison come from. All I know, rubber boots, pistachios ice cream and bicycles rides take roots from golden childhood days. Days when as soon as snow would start melting, my feet in rubber boots would show up on the street, measuring the depth of puddles. Pistachio ice cream would always be my number one choice on a hot summer day. Days, when the delight of a whistling wind in my ears was mixed with the fear of speed while I was riding a new shiny bicycle through city streets. Time stood still. While my relationship with pistachio ice cream and biking were positive from the beginning, there was not a chance for me to accept rubber boots into my wardrobe when I had to wear them for the first time. Allow me to start from the beginning, however.
At this particular moment, as I drink my cup of cappuccino with oat milk, scribbling random thoughts in the notepad, and thinking what the first blog post should be about, I realize that my life this at particular moment split into two parts; before, and the present.
About a year ago I entirely gave up on blogging, Instagram and my presence in Social Media. Such topic, however, deserves separate undivided attention. There was no time I regretted that decision, as my mental, emotional, spiritual health, my time management, and my writing projects improved profoundly.
About a year ago I entirely gave up on blogging, Instagram and my presence in Social Media. Such topic, however, deserves separate undivided attention. There was no time I regretted that decision, as my mental, emotional, spiritual health, my time management, and my writing projects improved profoundly.