God's timing is remarkable, isn't it? That's wonderful. I hope you keep adjusting to the new environment. Peace be with you as well. Good luck and God bless!
Your post really touched my heart. In a world that has held you accountable, the system was not accountable in your mother's death. Take solace in the fact she apparently loved you and you had dealt with whatever issues you had in the past. I hope you can make peace with yourself. As a mother of a son who shows no love or respect for me, I admire you even more. I would have loved to have had a son like you. Peace. Toni
Dear Robert, Sentients, another word for my ever expanding vocabulary, though I can only find the word as an adjective in the dictionary and not in plural at all. But otherwise I can only agree, they make the world a better place... This time I have a story for you, same author, Toon Tellegen. He has written a lot of these stories. Here we go:
The sun was shining and the squirrel and the ant were sitting in the grass on the river-bank. Above them the willow rustled, in front of them the water burbled, and in the distance the thrush was singing.
‘In my opinion,’ said the squirrel, ‘I am happy now.’
The ant said nothing and chewed at a blade of grass.
‘I think,’ said the squirrel, ‘that I could never be happier than I am now.’
‘Well...’ said the ant. ‘And if a honey-cake came flying by with a note on it saying: for the squirrel and the ant...?’
‘Yes,’ said the squirrel. ‘Then I should be even happier. But happier than that is impossible.’
‘Well...’ said the ant. ‘And if I'd been planning to go on a journey and I said: squirrel, I'm not going, I'm staying with you, all right?...’
‘Yes,’ said the squirrel. ‘You're right. Then I should be even happier...’
‘And if the cricket was throwing a really big party tonight, and if you suddenly got a letter from the whale with an invitation, and if today the sun didn't set any more, and if everything smelt of fresh beech-nuts...?’
The squirrel didn't answer. He looked at the sparkling water and thought: so actually I'm not really that happy after all...
He looked sideways at the ant. But the ant had his eyes shut, chewed at his blade of grass and let the sun shine on his face.
What am I then? the squirrel wondered. If I'm not very happy...
It was as if a cloud had come between him and the sun. He couldn't answer that question.
In the distance the thrush fell silent and the nightingale started to sing, just like that, in the middle of the day.
Hey, thought the squirrel, what's going on? He felt a stirring in his eyes. Tears? He wondered. Are those tears? He heaved a deep sigh, folded his tail behind his head and stared at the sky. I just won't think any more, he thought. But he knew that that was very difficult.
So they lay side by side on the river-bank, the ant and the squirrel.
‘How lovely it is just lying here relaxing, squirrel,’ said the ant a long time later.
The squirrel said nothing.
‘I've never been so lovely and relaxed before,’ said the ant.
I wish, thought the squirrel, that just once I could be sitting on a branch with my legs crossed with the ant down below shouting up: you're right, squirrel, I admit it, you're absolutely right...
The sun slipped slowly down the sky, the river burbled and in the distance the blackbird sang. The squirrel just looked and just listened and didn't think about anything any more.
From Maybe They Were Nowhere (Misschien waren zij nergens). Amsterdam: Querido, 1991.
Stephanie, I sent you a letter but have not heard from you, the address did not have the apt. number.so I don't know if you got it or not , but happy belated birthday, luv you and thinking of you.
RSS
Sentients, another word for my ever expanding vocabulary, though I can only find the word as an adjective in the dictionary and not in plural at all. But otherwise I can only agree, they make the world a better place...
This time I have a story for you, same author, Toon Tellegen. He has written a lot of these stories. Here we go:
The sun was shining and the squirrel and the ant were sitting in the grass on the river-bank. Above them the willow rustled, in front of them the water burbled, and in the distance the thrush was singing.
‘In my opinion,’ said the squirrel, ‘I am happy now.’
The ant said nothing and chewed at a blade of grass.
‘I think,’ said the squirrel, ‘that I could never be happier than I am now.’
‘Well...’ said the ant. ‘And if a honey-cake came flying by with a note on it saying: for the squirrel and the ant...?’
‘Yes,’ said the squirrel. ‘Then I should be even happier. But happier than that is impossible.’
‘Well...’ said the ant. ‘And if I'd been planning to go on a journey and I said: squirrel, I'm not going, I'm staying with you, all right?...’
‘Yes,’ said the squirrel. ‘You're right. Then I should be even happier...’
‘And if the cricket was throwing a really big party tonight, and if you suddenly got a letter from the whale with an invitation, and if today the sun didn't set any more, and if everything smelt of fresh beech-nuts...?’
The squirrel didn't answer. He looked at the sparkling water and thought: so actually I'm not really that happy after all...
He looked sideways at the ant. But the ant had his eyes shut, chewed at his blade of grass and let the sun shine on his face.
What am I then? the squirrel wondered. If I'm not very happy...
It was as if a cloud had come between him and the sun. He couldn't answer that question.
In the distance the thrush fell silent and the nightingale started to sing, just like that, in the middle of the day.
Hey, thought the squirrel, what's going on? He felt a stirring in his eyes. Tears? He wondered. Are those tears? He heaved a deep sigh, folded his tail behind his head and stared at the sky. I just won't think any more, he thought. But he knew that that was very difficult.
So they lay side by side on the river-bank, the ant and the squirrel.
‘How lovely it is just lying here relaxing, squirrel,’ said the ant a long time later.
The squirrel said nothing.
‘I've never been so lovely and relaxed before,’ said the ant.
I wish, thought the squirrel, that just once I could be sitting on a branch with my legs crossed with the ant down below shouting up: you're right, squirrel, I admit it, you're absolutely right...
The sun slipped slowly down the sky, the river burbled and in the distance the blackbird sang. The squirrel just looked and just listened and didn't think about anything any more.
From Maybe They Were Nowhere (Misschien waren zij nergens). Amsterdam: Querido, 1991.
Warm greetings, Julia
Carly
From Pablo Piña, via Carly