One day

One day we will sit together and you ask me to tell you about these years. Then I will take out these pictures from this era of yours, from which you no longer remember much, but I will never forget.

About that special era, which was no longer about chaos, where things became physically easier, but the passage of time still made it bittersweet.

By the time we look at these pictures, I will be old. You'll be amazed at how young I was, you'll be surprised at the color of my hair, and I won't be angry when you comment on my dressing style. I will laugh with you and try to explain that it was really cool back then.

I will compare my current self with my past self, because it is inevitable at this time.

Then I'll tell you more.

I will tell you that yes, it was you and it was me, but most of all it was us.

You were so small, I was so young.

I will tell you that this is how I hugged you and this is how you snuggled with me since you were little.

I will tell you that you have grown up, but sometimes the candle holder broke and I was always the refuge.

I will tell you how much your father and I admired your open nature, your humor, your perseverance and your mind.

I will tell stories that you have not yet known and I will admit that I was not perfect, but I was always there for you.

We were there for each other.

I will tell you that these were the best years of my life. Whatever we've done together, I'm grateful for everything. For the laughs, the tears, the time spent together.

I will tell you how difficult it was these days to say: I no longer have a child in kindergarten.

It's over with you too.

I don't think I'll say it, but I relive everything at that time. I would like to go back in time, but unfortunately I can't. But I will take you back with me through pictures, memories and stories.

Back where it's just you and me.

Our hugs are the magic of your pure-hearted childish world.

Let's relive it.


One day.

But until then, I'm happy that we're here today.