Η Νεφελη Μου...

It is my youngest child's birthday today. My sweet Nefelh will turn four today at 4 o'clock this afternoon. Each one of my three children represent the way i was feeling when i conceived and carried them those nine remarkable months of pregnancy. This is Nefelh's story.

My Nefelh was conceived on a warm night in august five years ago. I even remember the exact date. My husband and i had been having quite a few personal problems that period and after two weeks of being apart, we both had made peace with ourselves and our relationship and we both felt full of hope that he and i were indeed going to get past whatever personal differences we had then. That night,call it sixth sense or women's intuition or just a feeling, i knew that i would conceive and i still remember the strong feeling of anticipation the few weeks following that evening. I wasn't surprised that a few days later, when we took our planned family holidays to Naxos, i started feeling queasy and nauseous all day and all night. My morning sickness lasted, as did with all my other pregnancies, my whole nine months of pregnancy. It was a small price to pay for such a miracle though.

Nefelh and i had quite a bond all throughout those nine months. I would talk to her continuously and so would her brother, sister as well as her father. She felt a tremendous flow of love from the very beginning. We didn't want to know the sex of our unborn child but i had a feeling it would be a girl. Those nine months passed quite quickly and i enjoyed every moment of being pregnant. It's an incredible feeling to know that you are responsible for the life inside you. I took care of myself as well as i could and waited anxiously for the months to pass.

The nine months passed calmly with happiness and serenity. Any personal problems that we once had were now a thing of the past. We made quite a few excursions that year together with my other two children and i was in excellent health and condition,so all five of us enjoyed ourselves..I'm including Nefelh of course. I continued working til the day before i went to have birth..until that Thursday came that is.

All of my children were born on Thursdays. I had a feeling that this one was also going to be born on a Thursday as well. Of course,almost no one believed my predictions but Nefelh and i had come to our secret agreement. I had ordered an extra closet for the new baby's clothes to be put in since there was no extra room in the house and my father finally finished it Wednesday. The day before i gave birth. That night,one o'clock Thursday morning, i remember sitting on the couch in our living room,having put all the new baby clothes that i had bought in the new wardrobe, stroking my stomach and feeling my unborn child's movements inside me. I told her at that moment that she could now come into this world...everything was ready and we were all waiting for her. A few hours later, while trying to sleep in my bed,my contractions started. It was then six in the morning.

I didn't want to go to the hospital immediately and my doctor advised me to stay at home til the contractions came every twelve minutes but not to wait more than that since it was my third birth and things would probably be much easier and faster than the other times. I,of course, being quite stubborn, decided to stay home til my older children returned from school. I wanted to kiss them goodbye...though i knew that nothing was going to happen,fear was beginning to set in. Giving birth has its share of fear anyways. At that time my contractions were every ten minutes and we left to go from one side of Athens to the other. By the time we reached mid point,the contractions were coming every three minutes and i remember with a huge grin now,how stressed my husband was,beeping his way through traffic and hoping that i wouldn't give birth right there in the car.

From the moment i entered the delivery room to the time my sweet Nefelh was born no more than thirty minutes passed. There was no time for IV,no time to practice breathing exercises, no time for anything. Nefelh was as strong willed as her mother was and she wanted to come out exactly then. After a small push and a huge feeling of relief, my daughter was born and put onto my breast, while her crying mother and father just stared at her. She was completely white skinned and her hair was blond. Her eyebrows were so lightly coloured that you couldn't even see them. She breathed quickly and tried to find something to suck on. Its incredible how babies automatically learn how to suck on anything.as soon as they are born,even though they've been doing it all the previous months as well. I looked at my newborn and introduced myself to her with a gentle voice so she knew that it was my voice she had been hearing all this time.It was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

I then gave her to my husband who had watched the whole birth this time again as he had done with our other two children. He too was at a loss of words and just looked at her,counting her toes and fingers and wondering how this child was so light haired since both of us are quite the opposite. Actually he was even paler than the baby was but managed to keep on his feet.

Those days went by quickly and they became weeks and months and now four years have passed. My little girl resembles myself in many ways. She has quite a talent with words and expressions and can make you just there with your mouth gaping open with her comments. She rarely gets angry. She loves to be hugged and kissed and be told as well as say, how much she's loved or how much she loves you. She knows all my favourite songs and sings them with a passion. She understands when I'm upset or distracted and comes to my lap and hugs me without saying anything. Though my older daughter is by far more stunning in beauty, the youngest has her own way of attracting people's attention,even without having said a thing. Her light hair falls below her shoulders with soft curls and she walks with a jump in her step,just like I do. She always has a smile on her lips and has picked up my sometimes annoying habit of always humming or softly singing a song while walking anywhere. For me,through my eyes, she represents hope and through her character you can understand that she will be a hopeless romantic when she grows up and I'm sure she will believe that there is a pot of gold at the end of all rainbows.

When Nefelh today will blow out her birthday candles and make her wish,she'll probably wish for a new Barbie doll or new stickers which she loves sticking around the house. I will also make one for her though, just in case hers is not heard. It's the same wish i make every night for all my children and those i love, just before i go to sleep, just in case there is someone, somewhere who is listening.

Happy birthday my dear Nefelh..it's your laugh and smile that make tears of love fill my eyes..and it is your hope that makes mine still live inside of me...

My Sister and I...

Today is one of my sisters birthday. She is the second girl and the third in line of five children. As i was trying to decide what i was going to write for my post tonite, i suddenly understood that i have never written something about or for her so instead of writing about my insecurities and frustrations and whatever thoughts i have that can surely wait for another day, I'd like to paint a painting with words about my sister. My sister Peggy.

My sister and i are very unlike any way you look at us..from character and personality, to height and weight. She is not tall and she would be considered as delicately built.She has a very low profile as a person as well. You will rarely hear her talk either exceptionally loud or shout that way either. She rarely shows extreme sides in any kind of feeling.She is quite close to herself in her thoughts and i think that she prefers her own company to anyone else most of the time. Though she's turning thirty-five today,she is still easily passed for a twenty-five year old. When she was young, a teenager to be more exact, she would get extremely angry and annoyed when people used to think she was around twelve. At that age all we want is to look older anyways. Now that shes grown up a bit though,it doesn't seem to bother her anymore!

I wouldn't say that growing up was easy for my little sister. She was constantly compared to me by our parents and by our teachers. I felt quite guilty about this when i was young but didn't know what to do. I think that being the middle child must be the worst. You're not as old as to get all the priorities that parents distribute that way, and you re not as young to be the center of all the attention as is the case with the youngest children. This was how it was for her as well.

My sister and i always shared a bedroom. I remember uncountable nights when we were both young,when we used to hold hands since our beds were quite close to each other,til both of us fell asleep. I have fond memories of doing all the housework that my mom used to make us do an a daily basis together and we would pretend to act out roles so that the chores would seemingly appear to be more enjoyable. I also recall the hundreds of nights that i made her sleep with the light on since i was busy reading books or writing in my notebooks. She never complained. She never grumbled. Not even then and still not not.

I thank my sister for putting up with me all those years when i used to sleep with the radio plastered against my ear and slowly humming all my favourite songs til the early nights of the morning. I thank her for putting up with my obsession with Duran Duran, the Smiths and the Cure and for her giving me her closet space so i could tape up my favourite poster of Morrissey and Robert Smith since mine had already had one of Simon LeBon there. I thank her for hearing my continuous blabber about everything,from boys to music,diets and heartaches,at all times of the day and especially at night. I remember with nostalgia all the conversations we used to have at a whispers sound so that our mother would not hear a word of what we were saying. I was continuously getting into different situations and mostly into trouble and since she was the complete opposite,her views did get a bit of sense into me quite a few times. But mostly i remember the incredible laughs and laughter that we shared. Laughing until we cried with tears and rolled down on the ground. Many times we got ourselves into trouble because we couldnt stop ourselves from laughing.

I apologize to my dear sister though for having been the reason that there were always so many arguments in the house and her always trying to set things back into place in her own way and the endless times she kept me company when i was truly down. I apologize for having 'used' her many times in my different plans to out trick or outwit our parents to do what i wanted. I was always headstrong and got over whatever consequences i had to endure for my actions quite easily. For her however,it wasn't always that easy and many times she felt sad for quite a long time..mostly sad for me. I apologize to Peggy that i hadn't supported her as much as i should have when she did decide to get married one fine day so many years ago. I thought she was rushing and i only wanted to protect my little sister and i still remember the harsh words we had then exchanged. It was the first and only time we had ever truly argued. I just hope she understands that my intentions were not bad.

You know, my sister Peggy and i aren't as close as many other sisters are. We don't get into very personal matters easily,though occasionally it does happen. She's a bit strict about certain things and believes that i should act a bit more mature than i generally do. Maybe she's right sometimes. But even though she doesn't know it because I've never told her, i do admire my sister. Though she has been living under difficult circumstances these past years, she's managed to do it with a lot of self respect for herself and her family. She's made peace with herself and her decisions and lives calmly. This is something i wish i could have the ability to do many times with myself and not always be on a self discovery crusade that seems as if it will never end.

Happy birthday my dear Peggy...you know that i do love you though in our family we never express such words of sentiment. I could only wish you the very best that life has to offer and that you will always give me the honour of being by your side when you need me to because you know what? Ive always been there and will always be there, even if you never do need me...

When I Close My Eyes...

Sometimes, when i close my eyes, my perception of dreaming and reality become one and i have difficulty in separating the two. Do i worry about this? Not really. I believe that all our deep passions, whether they are ones filled with grief or desire, come out while we are sleeping. It's with this thought in mind that i wrote the following feelings down.

why is it when i close my eyes
that i see you better
hear you clearer
feel your touch as if you were by?

why is it when i close my eyes
that the image i see
fills myself with light
and the darkness disappears
and you are once again here?

why is it when i close my eyes
i can smell you near
i can sense you by
but only for a moment...
and then once again
just like you always do..
i can feel you disappear?

why is it when i close my eyes
the feeling of loss comes back
and the wind of sadness lightly touches my lips
and enters back inside myself?

why is it when i close my eyes
that all these feelings come back to life..
come back to visit me every evening
every dawn...
and the question of why remains
til the next time...
til the next evening...
til tomorrow...
til forever?

why is it when i open my eyes
i see the real light around me again
but the darkness inside me returns...
your voice inside me hushes again
til all that is heard is quietness..
my loneliness...
my emptiness?

why is it when i open my eyes
i feel what i pretend to feel...
see what i pretend to see ...
live how i pretend to live...
til its time once again..
to close my eyes..
and see you once again here..
between reality and dreaming..
for a single moment..
a single flash?

i wonder when i will finally wake up...

Mistakes..Are They Easy to Just Erase Away?

When i was a child, when i made a mistake, it would usually mean that i couldn't get that new set of markers that i was planning on getting when my mom would take us shopping every Saturday afternoon. In more serious conditions, when my mom or dad used to really get quite fed up with me and with something i did, stricter measures would be taken and this would even include my not being allowed to go out of the house and play with all my brothers and sisters and i would be left crying my 'unjust' fate indoors but at the same time being stubborn and pretending that it didn't really matter anyways. The truth was that inside i could have burst into two from jealousy!

As a young adult, mistakes had their own significance and consequences afterwards. Most of the time, I kind of knew what the outcome was going to be but since I had the luxury of being still quite young, i could most of the times get away with anything that came my way. If though sometimes, the consequences were a bit more serious, again the fact that youth does allow you to make mistakes also made any of the pain and heartache less difficult to manage.This is indeed the greatness of youth!!!

Now though,as i am in my late thirties, i look back on all my past mistakes up til adulthood with nostalgia. Now, any mistakes that i do in fact make have more serious consequences on myself and on those around me. I sometimes feel that though I've gotten over any kind of mistake that i may have put myself in, and though I've paid the price for it personally more than enough times to compensate for it, i feel like its waiting for me around the corner, as I'm walking down the street...waiting for me to pass the corner and for it to spring out in front of me with a huge scream and scare the life out of me once again. Even the mistake itself wont let me forgive and forget...

Of course I'm not so naive as to compare my mistakes when i was nine to the ones i have made now in my thirties. There is no comparison whatsoever and the consequences are by far more serious now. Nonetheless, when i was nine, at that point, the mistakes seemed as serious as they could be and they were if you think about it. Each age period has its own worries and you cant expect any nine year old to have the problems of any adult and this is the way it should be.

The weight though of my adulthood mistakes is still quite heavy on my shoulders and its the reason that many times, i am in fact, second guessed and doubted by those around me. Though they mean best, it is in fact quite difficult to live something like that over and over again. Of course the main responsibility is mine but still..is it really so difficult to forgive and forget? This seems quite impossible from what I've seen so far.

All the people i know around me have in one way or another each made their own share of mistakes, directly or indirectly, purposefully or not. I look at them and most of them do just get over them without a second thought. It's i that torment myself i suppose about it. I honestly believe that some of us, those of us who in fact do think about what they've done at the end of the day before they go to sleep, do learn from their faults. Especially those of us who hurt as a result of them.

As i write on a piece of paper my thoughts or other kinds of calculations, my mistakes can easily be erased with a very good rubber or eraser. This is the 'safe' way to think that is. But nothing is completely erasable...even if you write in pencil. If you look closely at the paper you can still see that something else had been written there before it. A small smug is still on the paper as well as a few leftover dirty pieces of rubber. So are mistakes easy enough to just erase away? I suppose I've answered my own question...

My Friend Liza

I've never understood the significance that 'celebrating' the date that people passed away had and i do admit that it always made me feel quite depressed. I believe that the real importance lies in acknowledging people when they are alive, when they can appreciate whatever it is that someone has to say to them and maybe it would give them something in return that they could on their part, use positively in life. Having lost a friend three years ago today and looking around myself and those around me, i have come to the conclusion that sometimes people need a date to sit down and remember someone..

Liza was not a very good friend of mine. Her husband was good friends with mine and we in turn also got to know each other. She was a very career orientated woman who worked in the very demanding world of advertising. She was very head strong about things and you couldn't really describe her as an extremely sensitive kind of person. She was quite firm in her opinions and convictions and many times was disliked because of this. There were however, other sides of her personality too but just as is the case with most of us, few of us take the needed time and effort to search and discover them, especially if it takes quite a bit of extra effort as was the case with her.

When Liza though became a mother, we immediately shared a bond that all mothers share and our conversations became more frequent and we also became closer as friends,though we never passed that invisible line that exists that changes friendships to something more. It wasn't in her personal style to have such close bonds with many women anyways and i did understand this. The truth was however,that we were very much different in personalities and i always disagreed politely to what she said because my ideas and attitudes towards life and people were much different than hers.I think that she appreciated this when i do think back on it now. Most of our common friends were very quick and firm in disagreeing and arguing with her and great quarrels used to take place which many times led to very bad endings. She was not liked by many but then again, she really didn't care. It was just the kind of person that she was.


Liza was diagnosed with breast cancer while she was nursing her few month old baby son. This was my first contact with any kind of cancer and to say that i lost the wind in me is not an understatement. Why is it when we are young that we think bad things can only happen to older people? That anything and everything can happen to everybody else apart from us? This obviously is not the case and i think i grew up overnight that day.


Liza's battle with cancer lasted five years. In those five years my family and hers went on holidays in the summers together, as well as different excursions during the different seasons that passed. I was not by her side during the difficult times that she passed through her numerous chemotherapy sessions...she didn't want anybody to be anyways. I wasn't by her side when she spent days in incredible pain and stayed locked up in her home. We always shared the 'good days' that she was lucky to have together..this was just as important i think. I look back on these days with fondness and with bitterness though. Liza was not embarrassed to show that she had cancer. She would walk around without a hat and people felt uncomfortable about seeing her without any hair,about knowing that she indeed had cancer. One summer, her husband and their then four year old son all shaved their heads as a symbol of support for her and that picture always gave me such a smile on my face. Even now that i think back on it,i still smile...

People though were impolite to say the least with her. Many times she was the topic and the sight of very indiscreet stares and comments. Being on the beach and wearing her swimsuit, she knew that her mastectomy could be seen but she didn't seem to mind. She got power out if it i think and was very quick to answer back to anyone who did stare a bit too long at her. I don't know if i could ever have had the strength that she had to confront not only her illness but also everyone else. She had only asked me one thing in all those five years that we stood by her in her fight and that was not to look at her with pity in my eyes because that was the one thing that was really killing her. I think that this was one of the most difficult things i ever had to do , so little when compared to what she had to go through on a daily basis.

I do believe that we all have the inner strength that we many times do need in certain situations. I looked in myself and found the way to get the pity out of my eyes and supported my friend as well as i could. I admit though that when the door closed and she wasn't anymore in sight,i used to break down and cry for her..so much for being strong but it was the best i could do.

I have never met a stronger person than Liza and i doubt if i ever will. Though she never admitted it herself, she knew deep down that she would get beaten by cancer since it was spreading very quickly throughout her body. Slowly she began growing less attached to her son and giving her husband the major role in his everyday life. She was always there but also wasn't at the same time. At first i was quick to criticise this and ask myself 'what is she doing for gods name?' but as time passed and she became worse,i realized that she had done this for the sake of her son..so his loss would not be as great as it would have if she had hoovered over him twenty-four hours of the day. Is there any other show of selflessness? I fail once again to find anything else.

It saddens me that now, three years after her death, that there isn't a single picture of her in her son's room, or one in the house where he lives in. A picture does not of course bring back a person but it is an indication of something. When i look at this eight year old now, i see in him his mother. Besides his obvious resemblance to her, his voice sounds just like his mother's and deep in his brown eyes, there is the same expression as his mother always had..i find myself many times staring at him and my mind drifting...

Unfortunately so, the same disappointment i also feel for myself . I don't think about Liza as much as i should and i haven't visited her grave to leave a bunch of her favourite flowers in a long time. There are no excuses for that. But if there is such a thing as life after death,in whatever form that may be, she knows that i did love her but more importantly i admired her for her fight and stand those five difficult years for her. She taught me what it meant to really love someone enough to let them go...this is what she did with her son and this is her greatest accomplishment as a person. How many of us are given the opportunity to show ourselves in our life and to take advantage of it? If we are honest with ourselves, few of us have.

Thank you Liza for letting me grow next to you ...for letting me see what it is to have self respect...for what it truly means to be a mother...