I have been a writer mom all my life,
though I was a child I had to be the mom of me.
Now the mom of my son.. He calls me "my darling writer mom''
while he stares me in the eyes trying to find in them a smile.
I smile..my eyes do not..
It is the 21st of December 2012 the day
the world will end -as according to the ancient oracles.
This end will meet us in our small home,
watering our trees,listening to medieval music..silently..
I have told my son that today is the birthday of life..
'The birthday of life..' he wondered..."I did not know, life was born' ,he smiled..
''Yes'',was the only word I could tell to my son...
Life was still living when the end of the world came.
My end of the world..
I never saw my son again...not even in my dreams..
not even in my memories... Although dead I am living...
The 21st of December 2012
was the day my son died...
Now just a writer..not even mom to myself...
watering the trees in silence..
waiting for the true end of the world..
I want to be the first to witness this end..
Olga Stathi,The Endless End,2012.