letter to you

March 16th, 2024

It’s March, the month of nature’s revival from the deep sleep during the winter months. Trees in the forest unfurl their buds to give life to new growth, just another stretch towards the sun. Then the green leaves are showing up, opening themselves towards the clear skies to absorb that vital energy that keeps this planet alive. All creatures of the forest join the magnificent spectacle of spring revival. The most active, and most present are the birds. Their songs are lively and joyous, but most of all they are loud and various. The old Romans, celebrated the new year in the month of March, considering the revival of natural world as a new beginning. They named the month after a warrior god, which is a little awkward. But true it is that March is a month in which two seasons are battling for supremacy. That’s why this month is so capricious, with great variations of weather. 

As one that always considered the winter the best season of the year, with the deep snows and biting cold as messengers of purity, I would struggle to appreciate March if it wouldn’t be for a saint that once walked the very ground of this beautiful earth. If I thought saints are just literary creations, I was wrong. I have seen and I have known a saint, and I mean it. She lived life just like a flower. No wonder, that her parents had named her Flower. Premonitions happen, just as the life of saints happens from time to time too. Like a flower she grew, she bloomed showing her beauty to the sky, and wilted away, returning to the earth just as humbly as a flower does. 

I am watching the world around silently, staring at blooms and listening to the birds and I wonder myself what is left in the world after she passed. I know it’s in vain to cry in despair because she showed there is no reason in this life you should ever give up. Out of all the fears she grew stronger. Out of adversities she became even more forgirveful. And just before the great end she found a way to stay here just a little longer, and say good by with a wave of hand.

What are we without her? Are we just lost solitary souls, desperate and hopeless. No, we’re not because above all, there are birds to sing and flowers to bloom.

It would have been your birthday today and I miss you enormously, but I can only be grateful to have been mothered by a saint. And I am grateful for all the birds song that you loved so much and I can still hear around me.