Story

I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a cashier hand this little boy some money back. The boy couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old. The cashier said, “I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough money to buy this doll.” Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ”Granny, are you sure I don’t have enough money?” The old lady replied: ”You know that you don’t have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.” Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. “It’s the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.” I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her afterall, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. “No, Santa Claus can’t bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.” His eyes were so sad while saying this. “My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.” My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: “I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.” Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me “I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won’t forget me. I love my mommy and I wish she doesn’t have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.” Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. “Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?” “OK,” he said, “I hope I do have enough.” I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: “Thank you God for giving me enough money!” Then he looked at me and added, “I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give it to my sister. He heard me!” “I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn’t dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.” “My mommy loves white roses.” A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy? Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away. I couldn’t stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever.. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him. Now you have 2 choices:
1) Repost this message.
2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart

My best gay friend

He’s my best gay friend! De ce trebuie sa fie intercalat acel ‘gay’? Simplu. Pentru ca asta vei auzi doar din gura unei fete, niciodata din gura unui baiat. Pentru ca prietenia dintre o fata si un baiat nu o sa tina niciodata daca baiatul nu e gay. Am avut multi prieteni buni, baieti, dar toate prieteniile au inceput cu atractie din partea lor spre mine sau din partea mea spre ei si s-au sfarsit tragic atunci cand unul din noi si-a ‘tras gagiu’/gagica’.
Dar mi-a ramas unul in ciuda tuturor relatiilor pe care fiecare dintre noi le-a avut de-a lungul timpului. Fiecare relatie a unuia dintre noi ne apropie. Am ajuns sa ne simtim, sa comunicam prin telepatie. De multe ori merg la el, ridica ochii spre mine si incep eu sa ii povestesc ce a patit. Ma intreb zi de zi cum de tine. Avem o relatie foarte ciudata, cum nu multi au. Imi amintesc si acum de o convorbire :
B: E asa … nu stiu cum … s-a … nu stiu …
C: Da , stiu cum e, te inteleg …
Ce om normal ar putea intelege ceva din asta? Noi ne batem, noi ne imbratisam, noi plangem unul in bratele altuia ca ne dau aia afara de la ore…
He is my bro. My only one bro. El e Vlad. Nu l-as da pentru nimic in lumea asta, doar el e cel la care simt si daca sunt la mii de km distanta ce simte si cred ca si la el e la fel.
Love you, bro !

Copilarie fumata

Voi incepe prin a preciza ca, desi mai am o postare cu aceeasi tema, simt nevoia sa exteriorizez parerea mea despre ce se intampla cu generatiile actuale de copii.
Am aflat de curand de un copilas de nici doi ani care isi pune singur muzica pe YouTube. In fine, alege din bara din dreapta si mareste ecranul si volumul. Tot de curand am ramas uimita cand am vazut cu cata usurinta si dexteritate umbla pe IPhone verisoara de aproape trei anisori. Stie sa intre la poze si la videoclipuri si sa se uite la ele rand pe rand. Ma alarmeaza destul de tare acest progres mult prea rapid al generatiilor ce imi calca pe urme. Afirm cu tarie si voi sustine pana in panzele albe ca sunt foarte norocoasa ca am facut parte din ultima generatie care a crescut normal. Ce traiesc copiii din ziua de azi nu se poate numi copilarie: stau in fata calculatorului cate 16-17 ore pe zi. Mananca in fata calculatorului, isi fac temele in fata calculatorului (asta in cazul in care sunt la scoala), fac tot ce este necesar in fata acestei cutii.
Imi amintesc, si nu putine sunt persoanele cu care am discutat despre acest subiect si sunt de aceeasi parere cu mine, cum bucuria noastra cea mai mare cand se lumina de ziua era sa iesim afara la joaca. Nu aveam cum sa ne chemam unii pe altii prin telefon, mess, facebook etc., ci ne duceam din usa in usa la tovarasii de joaca si le rugam parintii sa ii lase afara. Cand eram impreuna pierdeam notiunea timpului, chit ca ieseam la 9 dimineata si plecam in casa la 9 seara (bineinteles, cu pauza pentru pranz care parea interminabila, caci parintii ne obligau sa oprim joaca pentru a manca, lucru ce ni se parea inutil la vremea aceea) noua tot ni se parea putin. Jucam prinsa in toate felurile, ba chiar mai inventam si noi atunci cand ne plictiseam de multitudinea de variante stiute deja. Ne jucam de-a v-ati ascunselea. Ne suparam de moarte cand pierdeam la alegerile pentru cel ce urma sa mije si ne resemnam numarand mai repede sau tragand cu ochiul la cei ce se ascundeau. Ne luam papusile afara si o patura, ne asezam undeva pe iarba si ne uita Dumnezeu acolo. Ne uitam la desene in putinul timp in care stateam in casa si apoi ieseam afara si puneam in practica ce invatam (dar am crescut cu desene frumoase, nu invatam sa ne batem). Ne jucam de-a “Dansez pentru tine”, de-a “Rebelde”, de-a orice ne placea la televizor. Lumea trecea si se uita cu drag la noi cum ne taram unul sub picioarele celuilalt incercand sa imitam o miscare de dans. De jocurile cu mingea nici nu mai spun, bateam mingea ca dementii, pana ieseau vecenii si ne luau la injurat ca lumea doarme si ne certam cu ei si, Doamne!, ce ne mai placea!
Copiii de acum? Copilarie fumata! Sa ii spun unui copil de 4-5 ani sa joace prinsa? Cred ca ma scuipa intre ochi! Dar in schimb jucam noi si acum si e amuzant sa vezi 10-15 matahale de oameni fugarindu-se sau ascunzandu-se. Dar daca asa am crescut, asa stim sa omoram plictiseala. Cand aveam noi 7-8 ani ne era rusine sa ne uitam in ochii unui baiat/unei fete ce ne placea, ne scriam biletele anonime de dragoste. Acum ma uit uimita la baietei de clasa I sau a II-a cum ne fugaresc pe noi prin scoala pentru a ne da palme la fund. Cred ca cel mai grav lucru legat de acesti copiii este ca au o nesimtire de neinchipuit. Cand eram noi in clasa I daca se uita o pesoana mai mare chiar si cu un singur an la noi, plecam capul si fugeam 5m in spate. Dar nu. Ei nu sunt asa. Ei vin si tipa la tine chiar daca nu le spui nimic. Pot spune ca nesimtirea lor e de-a dreptul jegoasa.
Sper din tot sufletul ca generatia copiilor nostri, cei ce am crescut vazand cu ochii cum evolueaza lucrurile in foarte rau, sa isi traiasca copilaria asa cum ne-am trait-o si noi, nu o copilarie fumata ca a celor de acum!
P.S.: Multumiri lui B. pentru unele dintre ideile de mai sus!