Some Other Girl

My three coffees at El Fornet

So, today is the mother’s day here in Europe. I completely forgot about it. This morning I woke up at 9:44am, which is unusual, as normally 7am would sound about right. Kids are at my parent’s place today! Great! This does not happen very often, thus I appreciate the silence in the morning.

I woke up and read my ipad and stumbled upon a post in a blog I like and it was about a mom, sort of a mother’s day gift.  The post was great and then I realized that I have not congratulated my mom at all. How come I always forget about these things? Then, it got to me that I am also a mom. I never think of myself as one.

Yesterday I was taking my kids to the park and while I was buttoning my suit style jacket my daughter told me, “You do not look like a mom”. I turned to her and asked her how I looked. And she said, “Just like some other girl”. Whatever this means, I took it as a compliment. There we were walking barefoot with my kids in the park…

Grass in the park

I went to the café for breakfast. I am here right now typing all this while finishing my first coffee. I looked at the café’s cakes offering (see the picture below) and it reassured me that it must be a mother’s day here today.  I wanted to ask the girl who made my coffee if it was really a mother’s day, but could not pronounce anything intelligible. I had no voice. Still could whisper. Yesterday I went to the café for dinner and to read the book I just got, and when I was walking home it started to rain heavily. I got totally wet and lost my voice, it happens.  After hearing myself at the cafe this morning, I think this is probably my most attractive voice ever.

Mother's day cakes at el fornet

Yes, it is the mother’s day here in Europe! I checked my email, and I got couple of “happy mother’s day” messages from friends. I also got two awesome emails at my work email, no, not about mother’s day, just about work, straight to the point! Those made my day!

So, today is a great day! After I drink two or three more coffees and read for an hour or so I will go home and work. Because this is what I really want to do. Working makes me think and makes me excited. It feels like I am actually making some difference, creating something from nothings, moving somewhere. Even if we are failing now, we will make it because we are persistent and feel the purpose. We will make it because I can tell people what to do and they will do it. This is a gift I truly value. I have been told that I should go out and enjoy myself, the truth is I hate losing my time at dinners, lunches, having conventional conversations, talking about other people and things, discussing news, etc. It bores me to death. My work is what really makes me excited.

Happy mother’s day to all moms! Do the things you truly love and are passionate about, today and the rest of the days to come! It really does not matter what those things are, as long as you feel it from your heart. And it must be something with purpose.

My favorite corner table at el fornet

ships at el fornetThose are the ship pictures at El Fornet cafe, right in front of my table. I like to sit at this corner table and to glance from time to time, blindly, at the ships while I work. I can see the rest of the cafe from my place too. As a kid, I was excited about ships and learnt to draw them in detail from a technical guide and blueprints. I was preparing myself to build a ship!

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Some Other Girl

  1. So, happy Mom’s Day then! Cheer up! Today it’s the last day of the 5-days-weekend in our country. All the moms look forward to stop cooking and go to their workplace! 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s