March 7th...
It fired to me to write about my life. This thought came to me after seeing the different photos of uncle Simon since the times of childhood.
Why not to write it? My life for others, maybe it doesn't mean anything, but for me it matters, because it's mine, because it can be described in different interesting phases and sometime, as I read these happy and sad letters of mine, I'll be entertained or in melancholy.
Just like the human body that causes changes as it circles around the different periods of life, undoubtedly, the same goes with my life.
Who knows how sentimental does uncle Simon get when he sees his photograph where he's sitting in his mother's lap, with open eyes that look, weirdly, at the camera?
Maybe, he now feels pain for that baby that grew up and got old as he went through many dangers and is feeling a lot of pain as he tries to win over life.
- This is little uncle Simon, daughter dear, - he told me a few days ago as he pointed to the photography with his thick index finger and then he added: - Oh, it would've been better if he would never grow up and had stayed as a little baby in his mother's lap.
When I was young, I couldn't understand the thoughts that uncle Simon expressed with those words, but now I understand that he regrets that he has grown up and maybe even the fact that he was born, because even to him, just as anyone, luck hasn't smiled as much.
After looking another time at the silenced baby, as it was hid in his mother's lap, he went at the second one.
- Even this one, almost, looks like the first one, - he said. - It's wrinkled and makes you want to entertain it. Doesn't it? - he asked.
- Yeeees, - I answered extending the answer from the happiness I felt from looking at that beutiful baby.
-This one somewhat looks different from the first ones, since he looks bigger, - he explained and went to the fourth photo.
He stopped here and looked at me cautiously. I exploded in laughter and asked:
- And this? Why is he holding his nose with his hand and looks weirdly?
I bit my lip to stop from laughing.
- My mother had told me that I wanted to catch a fly that had entered inside my nose. That's why I look stupid, with my hand on my nose, - he answered.
Then I laughed hard, but he also joined with me. One by one he showed me the photos that were put, in order, on the wall. On those photos, he was either a child, young boy, high school student, a groom with mother Justen that was wearing white clothes with a flower crown on her head; man with a child or as an old man, like he is now.
I now know uncle Simon really well since childhood. It feels like I've lived and have grown up with him, like I've played games with him, etc. Now he has become closer and more friendly.
This is how important pictures are. I don't have any, since my father says photos are sinful. And truthfully, I've heard that photos in the afterlife will ask for... a soul from the humans! As for me, if I speak the truth, I cannot belive that the pictures will do, on the afterlife, something like that.
If that was true, the same should've happened with mirrors, glass or the clear water that portraits our face and body. Anyways, this matter has nothing to do with me. That's why I'm not getting mad at it. But as for taking a picture, first of all, I don't dare to, because my father then will beat me up.
In our house there aren't any pictures, truthfully, since my father doesn't allow so. He's a big fanatic and, if his eyes see any pictures of a human or bird, he'll immediately rip and throw it away with aversion.
Only the eagle of the flag he doesn't throw away. I don't know if he loves it, or he doesn't dare to.
Off, what I have written! Why would I need to know these gibberish, what tosks* say? Why do I attend such useless things that aren't worth mentioning and let alone writing about? Come on! But okay, since no one other than me, will ever sing or read these papers.
To get back to where we were: Yes. Just as the photographs that mirror our body in different ages and it entertains our memories, the same with the description of the human life itself, I believe that it saturates your wish to restart your life since childhood. How amazing, no?
That's why I decided to write, time to time, in this notebook, where I'll write all my events, thoughts and feelings. In this way this notebook, slowly, will become like my arc of secrets.
If my father finds out, he'll kill me. But he, luckily doesn't know how to read. Gosh, I'm so stupid! I became happy that my dad is an ignorant. But no. This was an expression of the moment, somehow... a small happiness shown just for this moment.
Now I'll close the notebook in the arc, since the kids may rip it apart.
***
GOSH, I'm so exited to write this. Just wait till the most amazing parts. I'm sure this book will swing you on emotions as much as it did to me.
Also, the Albanian flag has an eagle in it if you were wondering. 🇦🇱
*Tosk is basically a dialect, and Dije here is calling the people that speak this dialect "tosks".
That's all for today... No it's not!
See Ya ;)
YOU ARE READING
If I were a boy
Romance"If I were a boy" is a diary of a young maiden named Dije, who decides to write about her life for as long as she remembers. On her next journey, she describes about the struggle she had to deal after her father's new marriage. Not only did she suff...
