This image is so perfect with the drumming of rain on the roof of our attic flat.

Photo: Samsara

I think I need a cup of warm tea. A good book. A blanket.

And that’s ALL I need in this world.

~*♥*~

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My day started by a little message through which one could taste the salt of tears. The father of a 10-month old baby had been deported yesterday. His girlfriend and child were given 15 minutes to say their goodbyes.

Another salty message. A dear friend had lost her stepfather last night.

A salty conversation. My sons, again, got deep and philosophical about their Pappa. It’s amazing how clearly they remember him ❤. We had a long, such good discussion. It’s getting crowded in heaven, they figured. But maybe their friend N-N’s granddad also likes fishing, maybe he’ll also have an unruly politically incorrect sense of humor, and the old men will have a great time together.

Serge just took the boys and god-daughter to the circus. This long-awaited trip prompted such vivid expressions of joy that by now the whole building knows circus is in town.

And after the circus, we’re having a sleepover by 8-year-old N-N. Kids have ordered three mattresses on the floor, side by side, and firmly decided to stay up all night. They also have dangerously fond memories of a previous sleepover after which we woke up to artwork having been drawn all over the walls…

Just before rushing out the door for the circus my youngest son stopped to ask “Maman, are you going to die and go to heaven one day too?”. A question I’ve had to answer to my sons all too often, to which there is never an answer both honest and comforting. So I opted for trying to buy time. “Yes, but not for a long longest time. I have a feeling I’ll live to be very old.” He had another concern: “If you go to heaven you can’t give me kisses anymore. I’m not gonna like that.” Oh, you can believe how my heart quenched when his 5-year-old face grew sad. “Listen, I’ll blow kisses your way all the time then. Every time you’ll feel a little wind on your cheek you’ll know it’s me.”

This, to him, was acceptable. Off to the circus then.

So, it’s a full house of tears and laughter today.

Family ❤. So many big things, so many little things.

So many little things that are the biggest of all.

A song my heart is singing today.

~*❤*~

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Last summer was one of the hardest of my life – many people close to me fell very ill, got divorced, lost their families, lost their work, livelihood, self-esteem.  I tried to capture the good moments, either in pictures or in text, to show them to you here in LadyBohemia but even more importantly, to remind myself that they do exist.

This walk in one of my favorite cities in the whole world, Barcelona, was one of the happy moments that kept me going.

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Hope you enjoyed this little stroll too.

Thank you Serge, for the loveliest birthday gift ever ♥.

Thank you Eric, for the Photoshop for Dummies 🙂 .

~*♥*~

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is the source of this picture, and consequently, a sentence I believe in.

When I saw this picture my eyes and my heart just welled.

When I was six and my family lived in Zambia, my father brought home a baby like this one evening.  The baby bambi was maybe just a few days old. His mother had been killed and the baby was about to become someone’s supper as well. My dad saw what was going on, paid for the baby that was still alive – his twin brother had also been killed – and brought him home to me.

I named him Timba. He was so terrified of everything, every smallest sound made him cry like a baby child and his heart raced like crazy in my arms. I fed him from a bottle and just held him. That calmed him a little but still he was so afraid of this alien environment where he didn’t belong – this concrete building, amongst strange loud big people. I’ll never forget how he cried at night.

No matter how much I loved him I couldn’t save him.

Maybe I’ll tell you Timba’s story, later, now must rush to fetch my babies from school.

Ain’t it funny how it goes, this thing called life.

How it breaks your heart sometimes.

Post scriptum: My Bambi

It seems like there are many of you sweet people out there who care about the fate of my baby bambi Timba.

So. Timba let me bottle feed him so he grew up a little… But he truly suffered no matter how gently we tried to care of him. Alien human sounds, dogs barking, the clapping of feet on the floor, shouting from outside. Anyone doing anything made him weep and shake uncontrollably. His little heart pounded as if it was trying to escape his chest.

My father concluded that us, as a family, couldn’t offer this wild creature a life worthy of a living feeling being.

There were two zoos in the country and as the phones – or nothing else for that matter – worked, he visited them (inspected them in fact – my dad was one of the real men, kind to animals). And it turned out that in the other zoo a mother bambi had just lost a baby at birth. We hoped against hope that the mother would accept Timba as her own.

My dad took Timba to the zoo. He wouldn’t allow me to come along and see how my little one managed. But I do know that my dad went to visit Timba several times – absolutely refusing to take me with him – and came back with no real news. Other than all seemed ok.

Without looking me in the eyes.

He knew my soft spot for animals all too well.

And I could read him all too well ♥.

~*♥*~

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This day went like so.

Our friends visited us in the South of France and I wanted to show them a bit of the French Riviera. As I’ve spent most of my free time there for the past tens years or so, I was taken for a guide.

Mistake.

We tried to find a town called San Juan les Pins. The Navigator claimed that there we were. I, however, didn’t recognize anything, and promptly packed everybody back to the car, continuing the search.

Until we reached a familiar looking town… But a little nagging voice in my mind told me to still visit the tourism office and pose the rather classic question, well represented on my travels:

“Could you please tell me which town I’m in?”.

It wouldn’t have been quite that embarrassing, if we hadn’t actually ended up in Antibes – one of the best known, most touristic sites of the South of France. Which I’ve visited countless times.

To add insult to injury, we of course had originally been at our destination of San Juan les Pins, when I ordered everybody back to the car for further search.

Luckily, my travel companions ae most relaxed and lovely people, and in total holiday mode… They just decided to make the best of where ever we ended up. So we had the best seafood lunch at a picturesque little restaurant, followed by even more picturesque tour of Old Antibes.

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And when we continued for our next destination Nice, my buddies turned on Matti The Navigator and wisely didn’t listen to a beep I made from the back seat :).

But just between you and me… I’m quite fond of my talent of getting lost anywhere and anytime.  

Oftentimes, a place you accidentally discover turns out to be much more… delicious… than a trip meticulously planned.

~As if I’d ever meticulously plan my journeys~

~*♥*~

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Last night, we had two gentlemen overnight guests. My kids’ cousins. Same age. Same – impressive – energy.

In the evening, we put mats on the kids’ room floor and there they all went to sleep, in one sweet mess. But they’re still little so they wanted me to stay with them, in the middle of that sweet mess. There we were all five, my oldest son hugging the smallest.

I know a tiny little bit of shiatsu and often massage the soles of my sons’ feet when they go to bed – it’s so relaxing that it knocks them straight out.

So last night the guys were (very exceptionally!) absolutely exhausted by bedtime. They only had the energy to lift a little foot by little foot under the covers, to my direction. After eight feet (and one complimentary Indian head massage) I remember nothing more…

They all claim that once again, I was the first to doze off… But luckily, this time nobody had the nocturnal artistic inspiration to make drawings on our walls.

Now if that ain’t everyday poetry I don’t know what is ♥.

~*♥*~

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Tonight, I find myself home ALONE. For the first time in years… I don’t know how many of them. So, wow. I don’t even know what to do with all this freedom.

Decided finally to do not one, but two hours of Yoga and Pilates.

Bought myself some flowers.

And let Django fill every last corner of my little attic flat.

Perfection.

Try it friends, if not the flowers or the sport, but Django. Let him swing you off your feet… Heavenly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTlo809EIlo

MmmmMmm…  this music just invites me to give myself a bubble bath…

Have a lovely Saturday my friends – that’s what I’ll be doing ♥.

~*♥*~

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