A Mother’s Heart Knows

Drip, drip, drip…

Tears on my cheeks,

Lingering on my chest,

All the way down,

On the hard floors,

underneath my feet!

Drip, drip, drip…

Pain in my brain,

Confusion in my heart,

Despair in my soul!

Drip, drip, drip…

The whole of me hauls,

Like a wild animal,

Left with no cubs.

Far away, a new rock bottom is being reached,

Helped by hyenas disguised as friends!

Drip, drip, drip…

We dig our holes,

Thousands of miles away,

Yet our souls are tangled into eternity…

They came of me

I can’t let go and watch my babies fall

A piece of me is them,

A piece of them is me…

We fall together,

Regardless the distance,

In different ways,

In far away places!

Drip, drip, drip…

My own tears drawn me,

God watches, knows and decides,

on his own terms!

Drip, drip, drip…

The whole of me is ice,

but I  feel  stabbing




When would the nightmare end?

Drip, drip, drip…

I wipe off the blood which pours

from my wounded heart…

Drip, drip, drip,

there is MORE!!!

The Single, Married Mom!

Hmm… this must be a mistake, she is married or she is single or divorced or widowed. Single but married is  clearly wrong, as the two terms contradict each other, or do they?

If you are one of the Facebook perfect mothers, whose husbands remember your Anniversary, mows the loan without you asking him ten, eleven, twelve times, reads or sings or whatever, spends “quality time,” with your children every day and participates in all their activities, PLEASE STOP READING NOW!!! You are wasting your precious time which could be much better used posting the latest box of chocolates you received from your hubby and red roses.

This post  is written for the  less fortunate,  the “OTHER GROUP OF MOTHERS,” the ones who “act happy,” but are desperate and hide their desperation behind fake smiles… the ones  who stay in married relationships hoping that is the answer and the best thing to do for their children: To have both parents, regardless the secret  truth that one is absent and present only on paper, when BOTH signatures are required by the school!

Never mind that the man, with whom the single married Mom, stays in a relationship, never praises the daughters, and later, when your daughters pick the wrong partners, the single married Mom, wonders why!!! Later, as in TOO late, she has an epiphany:

The FIRST man in a woman’s life is their father! If the father gave the  daughter the message, “you are worthless,” well, she will feel worthless at the very core for the rest of her life (if something, such as good therapy doesn’t interfere with the hidden tragedy of low self-esteem. MARK MY WORDS: GOOD THERAPY! BAD THERAPY WILL DESTROY HER FURTHER!)

Most times, the “worthless”  children do unforgettable, shameful,  wrong acts! If such disasters happen, they suddenly become “your children,” as if you conceived them alone, in the convenience of your single bed. An immaculate conception, or worse!

If once in the Blue Moon, the same worthless children who were ALL yours, do something worthy, accomplish something, suddenly the SAME kids are entirely claimed by Dad and his everlasting efforts. Who cares that you, the married single Mom has been waking up  daily at 6:00 AM, fed the pets (how could we forget, any respectable family must have pets too!) and then made lunch and then shook the kids to make them conscious enough to sit in the back of a van, and drove them to school.

Once upon a time, before going to  the “real work,”  you stop back home in hopes you and  the Dad (not your Dad, the pretend one to your kids,) might have an adult conversation. Translation: A FIGHT!

It doesn’t start as a fight, it never does. He still sips coffee and watches the news or whatever relaxes him before going to work.

After the story that follows, my “pretend” single, married Mom stopped trying to rush back for adult conversations, and this is why…

It feels like yesterday… actually, it feels in the moment, that morning, when the married single Mom attempted to economize and made him lunch because she secretly noticed the credit cards were maxed. She prepared a tray with four compartments, and decorated it with a flower and presented it to the man of the house, while he was still watching the news. What a mortal mistake! To interrupt the intellectual activity  of watching television!

Here is the moment when she  first questioned her intelligence: She presented  the tray and mumble something to the effect that “they” (as in the household) would save $3 to $5, daily if he would consider the humiliating act of eating  lunch from home and not eat  “out” at a vendor, or worse a restaurant.

How could the single married Mom ever forget? His  memorable look, his eyes, which years ago whispered with ease, “I love you,” now spoke flames of hate: How dare YOU insult me! Lunch from home! NEVER!

Before any words were exchanged, he picked up the tray so lovingly decorated, and threw it against the French doors of the perfect American family living room. Shattered glass everywhere, mixed with crushed dreams and tears, topped with sadness and lies, lies to cover the…TRUTH!!!

(How lucky! one might think.  No human victims! What if the kids were at  home, what if they saw what happened? Would anyone be interested in THE TRUTH? WHY WOULD THAT BE RELEVANT?

Truth be told, the kids were  home. In all honesty, one daughter was in the single, married Mom’s  arms and the other still unborn, in the uterus, but why would the truth be revealed now… may be later, may be never… it ALL depends.

For now, let’s say there were just those two adults, once upon a time loving  couple and the lunch off the plastic tray spread everywhere. More precisely, the tray thrown in a corner,  the food allover among the peaces of shattered glass, and the single, married Mom, disoriented and speechless in the mist of it all, watching Him storming out the door! End of adult conversation!

The married, single Mom, cleaned carefully, before the dog had a chance to eat the ham mixed with the shattered glass. She wiped her  pretend tears of happiness and off she went to her job which made money. That job was  her recreational time, the ONLY time when she felt appreciated and needed… and let’s not be too theatrical and stop here for now.

After all, it is a show, isn’t it and Facebook is real!

There are NO such families, there are no single married Moms.


This post… is a joke!    Or is it?

Please if it resonates with you, let me know and we’ll continue to explore what happens to the single married Mom…

A Nobody!

A Nobody!.

Freedom, Home and All Kinds of Deaths

The dying woman had been barely breathing for weeks.

Her face blended in the perfect white of the cotton sheets, yet, every morning, the around the clock nurses, washed her and with care, applied lipstick on her otherwise cracked, expressionless lips. From a distance, it looked as if she vomited blood, but as one went closer, the illusion disappeared and was replaced by the reality of a perfectly contoured mouth.

Every morning, she opened her once beautiful blue eyes, looked around, and mumbled:

“Jesus, why am I still here?! Please, take me away!!!”

The process repeated over and over, until one morning her eyes stayed shut and the nurse didn’t paint her lips bright red. 

They all gave thanks to Jesus for having had mercy on her at last. He gave her the gift of a meaningful life and dignified death.


When I was five, or perhaps six, lacking adult supervision at home, many times, I played in the yard of the hospital where my mother performed eye-surgeries every Tuesday.

For a city girl, playing in dirt, smelling the wild flowers and watching the intricate lives of bugs I didn’t know existed, was an unimaginable treat!

These particular insects were everywhere. On the bright green grass, moving slowly, I noticed these red bugs spotted with red specs. They were called God’s Cows… Unquestionably, their name was Vaca Domnului (God’s Cow) for a reason. I never questioned why, as I never questioned the origins of my own name. It just was.

That first Tuesday I observed the insects in freedom. By the time Tuesday came again, I decided it would be better for them to be safe! Not imprisoned, but safe! I brought with me a jar filled it with a variety of grass, wild flowers and a few crumbs… may be they ate crumbs, or grass or both. I even gave them a few drops of water and observed them… a day, two, three… tick, tick, tick… the sound of a clock, or was it their heart echoing from the jar. Did they have a heart? Never asked myself at the time, but I knew their new life, in the mini-Paradise I created must have been much, much better than their life in freedom, where danger was everywhere!  

After a while, inside the safe home I had created, next to the adult black and red God’s cows, I noticed tens of  transparent insects the size of moving dots. A miracle! I was witnessing a miracle! By then, I carried the jar with me everywhere, it had become part of me.

That evening, I went to sleep early, so that I could wake up at sun raise and watch the miracle whose creation I had helped.

In the light of the morning,  the miniature “home,”  the mixture of green, black and red and the transparent moving  dots seem even more magical! I looked closer. And closer! I froze; I wanted to scream but no sounds came out.

I called my mom. She looked at the jar and matter of fact said:

“All the adult insects are dead. I don’t know about this type of insects, but it seems, once their “babies” are alive, the parents die. Their purpose was to procreate… to… continue the species. Their mission was done, they have no other purpose to exist. Hurry up now, I’ll be late for work,” she said and gently guided me to the door.

I wiped off my tears, and jar in hand, we hopped on the tram which took us to the hospital where my mom worked on Tuesdays.

“Don’t leave the hospital yard, you know that, right? It is dangerous out there!” She  walked slowly toward the main entrance, turned around  and said to me:

” … and empty the jar. They belong in freedom.”   

That was when I knew why they were named God’s caws. I felt better.