Posted in daily prompt, Family

They can’t take that away from me…

blog papi-0025

It’s been seventeen years since my dad passed away, but sometimes it seems it was yesterday. So vivid and sweet is the memory of his words, his blue glances, his kindness… I’ll say with Ella Fitzgerald, that

they may take him from me,

I’ll miss his fond caress,

but though They take him from me,

I’ll still possess:

the way his smile just beams,

The way he looks at me,

the way he speaks to me,

the way he sings so nicely,

the way he jokes with me,

the memory of all that.

No, no, they can’t take that away from me.

It’ll remain carved in my soul for ever

along with the peace he conveys.

Daddy, stay with me

No, no, they can’t take you away from me.


Looking back, looking forward

This year I have failed in almost everything I was supposed to do, but I can say that I have been there for my mom till she passed away, taking care of her, being by her side when she needed me, talking with her… loving her. I’m glad I have been able to do it. Now I feel sad when I see her house empty and I miss her smile and her wise and loving words. But life must go on… I’ll never forget this 2017.

Now let’s look forward: Happy New Year

Posted in daily prompt, Family

My dad’s library

My parents house was a cozy place mainly because they were there filling everything with their affection and their love. But also because the house was plenty of books (my father was a writer and a professor of literature), that gave warmth to the rooms. There were no walls without shelves and books on them except in the kitchen.

My father passed away years ago and my mother a few months ago, and we decided to donate my father’s library and his archive to his University. It will be available to scholars to research about my father’s work.

A few days before Christmas two librarians from the University came to classify, pack, and take away everything. They needed 115 big boxes to pack everything and two big vans to move them to the University’s Library and Archive

Now the house is empty and cold. Very sad. At least, we know all that beloved material is in good hands and will be useful for people interested in what my father had been doing all those years he spent writing and teaching. There are some graduated who could make their papers for their PhD on my father’s work.

All these are the good reasons we did. But for me is hard to look at the empty shelves without feeling my heart torn.


Inheritance of love

Scan 1

My parents lived one of the most exciting love stories I’ve ever heard of. They got married during the WWII. They had a baby, and almost immediately after that,  the war separated them.

My father was a prisoner, later a refugee and finally an exiled. My mom had to hide with the baby and later was persecuted because of her faith in a communist country. They spent twelve years trying to reunite again during which they suffered a lot.

All their attempts were a failures until 1956. But they loved each other so much that when they finally succeeded and met again, they were able to look at each other at the eyes without regrets, and continue their live together just as if they had said farewell the day before. And they continued loving each other like the first day till the end.

Dad, a writer, used to write poems to mom and surprise her with little gifts with no apparently reason. She was always smiling. Their friends and acquaintances say that my parents conveyed serenity and happiness. I think so too.

My dad passed away sixteen years ago. My mom just last August.

I miss them badly

They didn’t have material things to leave us as inheritance.

I would like to inherit their way of loving, so natural, so intense, so faithful.


Posted in daily prompt, Family

Knitting with Mom

I used to knit during the long hours I spent taking care of my mom when she was still among us. It was the perfect activity to be with her. I was able to follow a conversation with her, do something productive, and drop it immediately whenever she needed something of me, which was pretty often, and unpredictable. I couldn’t read a book, because I couldn’t concentrate with so much interruptions. Watch tv was extremely boring. She loved watching me doing something while I was with her. when I finished my first sweater she said she was really proud of me. Since she passed away I never took out again the knitting bag again…until today to take this picture.


Posted in daily prompt, Family, Memories, Uncategorized

Not fair


When I was a student at the University, my father was one of my teachers. I studied Journalism and he was a teacher of Literature, Technology and Ethics. I could attended at his classes which were magnificent above all the Literature an ethics ones. But he couldn’t examine me because I was his daughter.

He was known because he never let his students fail in an exam. They knew all of them would pass, but nevertheless they studied a lot for his exams. How did he get it? Nobody knew. He used to tell them if they wouldn’t work enough then, they will fail later in life. And he was able to convince them.  He was really kind and always open to talk with his students.

So, when all my classmates had guaranteed that they would pass the exam, I had to go to render my exam to a different professor. In Ethics I had to face  the toughest teacher of the Faculty who asked me tricky questions without any mercy. I didn’t want mercy, just justice. And that was not fair. At the end I passed, but it was hard.

In the picture, dad at the University


Posted in daily prompt, Family, Memories

Lost Nest

Mom's 1

Now that my mom has passed away, her nest is empty. Her house, a meeting point for all of us, plenty of great remembrances, is now a sad and solitary place. The place where I used to go to find refuge and solace is gone.

Soon it will begin the time of Advent and after that, Christmas. Every year I used to spend many time with her, planning what to do, what presents get ready for the kids, how to set the simple grotto scene in the living room, under the Christmas tree full of decorations and lights.

And because she was so sick and paralytic, I was the one doing all that things under her loving directions, while we listened to traditional carols .

We used to laugh like kids at the slightest reason or without any reason at all.

I loved the moment when I had finished decorating the tree and the whole living room. It was usually at the evening. I used to turn off all the lights except the ones on the tree and the grotto scene and all the other decorations. Then I used to go to my mom’s room and bring her, pushing the wheelchair, to the living room.

The wonder in her face was my best reward. Her eyes were bright and smiling and my heart was dancing. I’m going to miss you so much, mom!

In the picture, my mom’s armchair, empty


Posted in daily prompt, Family, Memories

Dad’s angel


Every Christmas eve, my dad used to build a grotto scene in the living room with little figurines of st Joseph, the Virgin Mary, the Baby Jesus and the shepherds, under the Christmas tree.

He had a beautiful a valuable figurine of the angel who announced to the shepherds the good news and he always put it in the scene gingerly at the end. When the angel was in its place it meant that everything was ready and the feast could begin.

Then, we could gather around the scene and the tree and pray, sing carols and finally open the presents.

The figurine, dad’s angel, no more than six inches tall, was very artistically done had every finger modeled one by one and a very peaceful face. It’s been more than 60 years than my dad bought the figurine and it looks completely new.

Now my sister keeps it in her house. She also takes very good care of it. It brings very good memories of all those Christmas at our home when we were all together and happy, and everything had some kind of sweet magic.

Those were wonderful years and now we are trying to build similar memories for the youngest in our family so they could also treasure wonderful memories of family life

Posted in daily prompt, our life

Not in the mood

Cemetery (2 of 5)

Too close to the death of my mom and a good friend to be interested in entertain myself writing a ghoulish story. Death has called recently people I loved, and my soul is bleeding quietly.

It’s strange, I’ve spent the last five years taking care of my mom and I came to thought that when she died, I would fall apart. She needed me because of her illness, but I needed her so much because of her love…

When was time to go to bed, she used to blessed me, doing the sign of the cross in my forehead telling me in Croatian, with her mild voice: “Sweet night, my heart”. (Laku Noć, Srce Moje). I thought I couldn’t live without her blessing and her sweet words. But when the death arrived quick and treacherously without giving me a chance to say goodbye, I stayed frozen by the pain, but without tears. I couldn’t react. I, who cry for anything , and die of sorrow for the most trivial misfortunes. My mom was dead and I couldn’t cry.

I still bearing my pain in the deeps of my soul and has not surfaced yet. Today I found myself thinking, “when all this work I’m having these days finish, I’ll have more time to take care of mom”But she doesn’t need me any more.

Maybe is me who needs to stop working and moving around and think about what happened no matter how painful, and let my tears finally reach my eyes and cry, because I miss her so much. Maybe is time tell her quietly: Sweet night, mom, my heart. Goodbye. Laku Noć, Mom.


Posted in daily prompt, our life

Identity search


When my father passed away I had to do the paperwork to get my mother widow’s pension and I run into a clerk who told me that my mom wasn’t my dad’s wife (after 56 years of marriage) because they didn’t have the “family’s book”.

In Spain, when you get married you get a “family’s book” which is very important. It certifies the marriage and when the kids arrive inscribe them as the legitimate children.
But my parents, who are from Croatia and had a very eventful life before settling in Spain, were already married for 13 years when they arrived, and the authorities never gave them the famous book.

I went to the social security office with the marriage certificate, from the civil authorities and from the church, and the book of large family the Spanish Government had given us many years ago, but the clerk told me that those documents were not valid. Without the family’s book, my parents were not married and my mom had no right to the pension. I came again with more papers but without success. The third day I arrive with my papers, another clerk, who was more sympathetic, called me to a follow her to a corner of the room and gave me a yellow post-it with a name and a phone number.

– This is a Red Cross’ social worker – she told me – who gets identities for immigrants who do not have them like your mom. Call her she’ll help.

I exploded:

– Look. My mom got the Spanish nationality 45 years ago, probably before you were born.  And now you are telling me that I have to look for an identity for her, as if she had arrived yesterday undocumented in a boat?. I appreciate your interest, but not. Thank you.

I went home tired and desperate and asked my mom if she had some other paper about her marriage. She produced an old certificate, profusely decorated with the red star, the sickle and the hammer, from the Yugoslavian Government, with the names of my parents in latin and Cyrillic alphabets, all written in Croatian and Serbian. It was related to the property of their small apartment in Zagreb.

– Try with this, she told me. It has nothing to do with the marriage but it has our names in it.

I went to the office of the social security armed with my communist certificate, absolutely incomprehensible for them, and, at the sight of the sickle and the hammer, the Cyrillic alphabet and all that, the clerk surrendered.

– This will work, she told me dryly.

So that way, thanks to the Yugoslavian Government, my application passed to a higher instance where there was an official who knew my father and said immediately that, of course, there was no doubt that my mom was my father’s widow and had the right to the pension.


Posted in challenges



Here is my mom solving crosswords at her desk. She is 96. She has total paralysis in the left half of her body due to a brain stroke she suffered four years ago and she’s completely dependant, confined in her wheelchair, but his intelligence remains intact. Last Christmas, her present was a kindle. She had been complaining that it was difficult for her to read paper books because with only one hand was almost impossible keep the book open and turn the pages. with the electronic book, she can do it with a single finger. She switched without problems to the digital format and she’s reading mystery novels and other books.
But I admire her because she’s a survivor with a lot of inner strength who never gives up. She survived WWII, a hard Communist Regime, an unjust incarceration, twelve years of forced separation of her husband, exile and now this sickness. And she never have lost her smile. Be optimistic, kind and strong. Never give up. That’s my mom.


Posted in daily prompt


Most of us are excellent at being self-deprecating, and are not so good at the opposite. Tell us your favorite thing about yourself.


Here am I, last Christmas. It’s not my usual look. I went to the hair dresser, applied some make up, earrings, necklace, my best dress, and voilà!: a total transformation. My usual appearance is very different a lot more casual and no so pretty. Something more like this:

I’ve had to think hard to find something good to tell about myself. I think I’m a good daughter. I’ve tried to give back to my parents all the love they gave me. I did it with my dad when he was sick and died and now with my mom who needs me every day for everything. And I didn’t forget the legacy of my dad, a good man, a writer, a poet and a loved teacher of 30 generations of journalists in Spain. I’m trying to maintain live his memory and publish his writings now that his centenary is approaching in my new website in which I write in Spanish. Since this post is kind of egocentric I would ask you to help me and check if you don’t mind the site. I would really appreciate your opinions about how it looks. I’m hungry for qualified feedback

Toot Your Horn

Posted in challenges, daily prompt

Grieving Night

Dad with his pupils at the university
Dad with his pupils at the university

I didn’t want to get out of that room. I wanted to stay by him till the end. I loved him so much! Every second was precious for me. But all the others decided that I was the suitable person to accompany my mother home to have some rest. I kissed him in the forehead, fearing it would be my last and said: wait for me, dad. He had no strength to talk nor open his blue eyes, but he managed to smile. I left the hospital heartbroken. So many remembrances kept in that faint smile, so acute pain in the soul thinking in the approaching farewell. Mom and I went home and she managed to sleep because she was exhausted. At two am I the phone awakened me.

– Come immediately, he is dying.
I got up in a rush and called mom to tell her the we had to go to the hospital. She began to dress up and comb her hair and apply her lipstick, because she wanted to be pretty for my father even in the last instant. I began to get nervous, because we didn’t have time to lose.
– Mom, hurry up, please.
Finally we went out. I drove to the hospital. My mom got out from the car at the door, to arrive as soon as possible, and I continued to find a parking lot. I ran back to the hospital hoping to find my dad alive and having the opportunity to tell him goodby.
He, who almost was executed during WWII, and once thought his body would disappear, and his love, my mom, would never know how much he loved her, was dying at old age, in her bed, surrounded by his wife and children and accompanied by a priest, friend of the family. Far away from his homeland, that’s true, but embraced by love.
When I arrived to the room, he was looking with his blue eyes to my mom, their hands clasped. He had trouble breathing and had an oxygen mask. But it was useless, so the doctor removed it. I asked the priest to pray something, but he was too moved to utter a word.
– Netter pray you something in Croatian, he told me.
I began to repeat the Lord’s prayer and the Hail Mary, my dad’s favourites.
Little by little dad faded looking at mom, his only love of 56 years. When he stopped breathing I stopped praying, the tears overwhelming my voice.  The sadness was tremendous. But my soul was invaded by an overwhelming peace. I kissed again his forehead and told him: thank you dad.

Topic Generator

Posted in challenges, daily prompt

Tired Lesson

Getting up each morning was a heroic act. She wasn’t entirely conscious of what was going on. She felt terribly tired, and any effort seemed unbearable. But she had a family to take care of and a job to keep, so she dragged herself each morning to perform her duties. Days were long and dark like endless tunnels. She only wanted to disappear. She constantly was thinking that everything she was doing was wrong. That her life was not worthy. But the love for her family made her go on and on working and trying to disguise her tiredness. She didn’t know if her boss had noticed that she was falling into a deep depression. She didn’t want to recognise that it was a depression. Her best friend had noticed and had saved her from many tricky situations offering her help or taking her out of the office for a quick walk when she was about to burst in tears in public.

One day she had to give a lecture to a group of young students. She had her notes and her presentation careful prepared, as always. But she couldn’t resist any more. She gave the entire lecture perfectly, but tears were rolling down her cheeks constantly. She couldn’t help herself. There was dead silence in the classroom. everyone was hanging on her words. She cleared her voice and continued despite the tears, till the end of the presentation. Her lecture was brilliant. There was an ovation. The students were impressed by that unusual lesson. She couldn’t even smile at them. She was exhausted. She only wanted to find a hidden spot to cry alone with her weakness.

It was the end. Or the beginning. She finally asked for a leave of absence and accepted she needed professional help. She learned from that tired lesson she gave, that she couldn’t go on like that any more. It was for the good of her family. It was for her good.

Topic Generator

Posted in daily prompt

Inside the Bubble

A contagious disease requires you to be put into quarantine for a whole month (don’t worry, you get well by the time you’re free to go!). How would you spend your time in isolation?

bubbles (1 of 3)

Sorry for the bad quality of the picture, but it suited the prompt too well. These kids are having a lot of fun inside the bubble, but they only want to prick the bright transparent globe and see how disappears in a harmless burst of soapy water. I guess I would be enchanted like them in my bubble at first, with plenty of time to sleep, relax. Time to read and write.  Maybe  give a boost to a book I have in project. I would have time to concentrate. There would be no distractions. No need to work and no other responsibilities. Luxuries I don’t have in my daily life. Bright, dazzling colours, deformed reality, with attractive surreal forms. But soon I would feel an irresistible need to take a needle and prick the bubble. A need to escape and interact with real people. And be able to see, and talk to, and touch my loved ones. This would be the best part of the isolation. Its end.

Inside the Bubble

Posted in challenges, daily prompt

Super Glass

glass (1 of 1)

He was four, restless, naughty. Had a powerful lungs and a loud voice and was always yelling and running around. No fragile things were safe with him around. The teachers at the kindergarten were desperate with him. A truly problematic kid.

His parents took him with them to a trip to visit his grandparents. Grandpa was very sick, in a wheelchair. He was an intellectual with a powerful mind now confined in an impaired body.

When he got to know his little grandson he said “this boy is gonna be a genius”.

He was the first one to predict a good future to him.

The kid was like mesmerised looking at his Grandpa and for once remained quiet.

Once the family went out for a walk and he insisted to try to push the wheelchair. He was so small he couldn’t possibly see where he was going, but had so much strength that he really pushed the chair and he almost crashed grandpa against a fountain. Everybody was running to stop him and avoid a catastrophe, but grandpa was laughing. He seemed to had a great time.

They had a special bond between them.

Sometimes the old man had cough attacks, pretty anguishing. Then the grandson would run to the kitchen to get a glass of fresh water and hurriedly offer it to his Grandpa.

You’ll feel better, You’ll see, the kid said while caressing him

Every time grandpa felt bad the little rascal was there. Not scared, or disgusted. Just ready with his super glass of water to ease the suffering of his beloved old man.

Topic Generator

Posted in daily prompt


How would you get along with your sibling(s), parent(s), or any other person you’ve known for a long time — if you only met them for the first time today?

My older sister has become lately my best friend. Above all now that we are together sharing our efforts in taking care of our mom who is very sick and paralytic,  so she needs our help for everything. She is a very pragmatic and resolute woman, cheerful, positive and with a golden heart. I am emotional, idealistic, depressed, and I have the head in the clouds. She helps me decide what to do when I’m perplexed or my emotions won’t let me think properly. In some way I have known her recently with all this problem with my mom’s sickness. Till now she was for me like a perfect model. The person who could solve any problem. Always sure and solid as a rock no matter what the difficulties. Now I’m getting to know her better. She has doubts like me about what to do, out of love for my mom. we both want the best for her and it’s not easy. Taking care of a completely paralysed person is difficult for everyone. Mom suffers, and we get tired. Sometimes, my sister needs to lean on me. I’m trying to be strong. For the sake of Mom and for the sake of her. Eli. My  older sister. She deserves it for all she has done for me.

Delayed Contact.

Posted in daily prompt


What was your favorite plaything as a child? Do you see any connection between your life now, and your favorite childhood toy?


Vuelta del Castillo

I remember playing with my brother and my sisters with home-made toys. With some paper and a lot of imagination we could turn out our room in a pirate ship and the corridors of our home in the Caribbean. The living room was the treasure island. We had what we thought it was a real treasure hidden there, in a secret place. We could play for weeks, without getting tired. My brother was the captain I was his second. One of my younger sisters was the boatswain and the other was too small and had no mission, but my brother convinced her that she was the most important after the captain. This was our favourite play when it was raining and we had to stay at home. When the weather was good and we went with mom to the park at the city walls, we played to knights and princesses running around with wooden sticks or just moving our arms and legs to pretend we were wielding a sword or riding a horse. Those were wonderful days we spent together.

Now we are each one in different cities, even different countries. Those days when we where happy together are gone, but the memories will stay forever.

Toy Story.

Posted in challenges


Humans have very strong scent memory. Tell us about a smell that transports you.

When my brother celebrated his first communion, some forty years ago, we had to rent his suit because we had no money to buy a new one. It was, as is traditional in Spain a sailor suit, all white with some trimmings in blue. After the ceremony we went all together to have a nice breakfast in a café close to the church with our friends. We ordered hot chocolate. Of course my brother ruined his suit with chocolate stains and my mom had to wash it before returning it to the store. But we had a wonderful day, playing and laughing all together. We used to go with my parents on Saturdays to another café called “Delights” where the hot chocolate was a speciality. I remember teaching to my younger sister her first words in Spanish there taking advantage of some decorations and drawings they had on the walls. I used to have strong migraines and my doctors said chocolate could be bad for my headaches. But I didn’t care. Mom used to make delicious chocolate cakes for feast days when we gathered  around the table and had the most fabulous get together. Hot chocolate and “churros” is a typical breakfast in San Fermin Fiesta after the running of the bulls. The chocolate scent brings me remembrances of feast days, of a happy childhood and of good friends. I like it.

Smell You Later.

Posted in daily prompt

Grandma for 15 days

Sure, you turned out pretty good, but is there anything you wish had been different about your childhood? If you have kids, is there anything you wish were different for them?

Once, my grandma came to visit us. She got a visa permit for 15 days from the communist Yugoslavian authorities to cross the border. She hadn’t seen my father since the day he got imprisoned by the Italian fascists who invaded their town during WWII and began his adventurous life who ended in exile and immigration. More than 20 years of separation.
I was five. We knew we only would have grandma for a few days. So we were all day around her, while she was all time close to my father, her lost child, now found for a short time. They had a lot to talk about. We listened in silence.
She had a very sweet face with a charming smile and beautiful blue eyes. I remember I was happy just being close to her and looking at her. The only family I knew till then was my parents and my brother and sisters. A grandma was a big novelty. I experienced her love for us. And it was great!.
Those few days passed too fast. We had to say goodbye, knowing it was for ever. And nine months later, she died.
I wish I had an extended family at reach. We were alone in a strange country. No family, no roots near us. The usual in an immigrant family.

Childhood Revisited.

Posted in daily prompt

My father

Have you ever had a mentor? What was the greatest lesson you learned from him or her?

When I was looking for my first job as a journalist I avoided the newspaper in which my father was working as a columnist because I didn’t want any favouritism. So I went with my résumé to another newspaper knowing that I would leave my home and move to another city. It was worthwhile. I learned a lot those first years by myself. Nevertheless I consider that my dad was my best mentor in life and in my profession because he taught me everything I needed to survive, search for the truth and work with ethics. He was always available for me. He knew to listen. He understood my problems and knew when I needed an advice and when I only wanted to lean on his strong shoulder, or share my joys or worries with him. He never imposed anything. By listening to me and let me talk, he helped me find my way to do things. And all with his fine sense of humor, with an easy smile in his face and in his bright blue eyes.

Mentor Me.


Posted in daily prompt


Beach, mountain, forest, or somewhere else entirely?

It has been so long since my last travel, that I only can think on get out of this city at least for a day. Where? I don’t mind. Any change would be welcome. I’m stuck in this city. I can’t leave its maze of streets. I like my city. I’m lucky it has plenty of parks and green spaces I can enjoy. It’s also in a privileged place near stunning nature spots. But for me is difficult to leave the city even to go to those places, no matter how close they are. And this situation is gonna last for a long time. I was gonna say: I’m afraid. But I’ll rather say: I hope. Or better: If that is what God wants. Because what ties me to my city this way is my mom. She needs me every day to take care of her. And I feel lucky to be able to help her to have a better quality of life now that she can’t move by herself.

I have a lot of memories of wonderful places I visited when I was free and had the means to travel. Once, I won in a raffle a trip for two to spend a week in Cuba all paid. My mom was then saying that she didn’t want to die without seen her homeland again, so I asked in the travel agency if I could change the tickets from Cuba to Croatia and they say yes.  We got a trip to spend 10 days in Dubrovnik all paid (out of high season). It was great. She told me a lot of exciting stories she lived in the medioeval city during the war. I got to know her courage. We enjoyed the art, the culture, the blue mediterranean sea. We took advantage of our trip to go to Kotor Bay in Montenegro to visit my dad’s family in Kotor city and Dobrota. We had long conversations at my aunt’s orchard next to the shore, feeling the evening marine breeze. Kotor Bay is a wonderful place where you have the sea, some islands, and high mountains together. It was a great trip. I would like to go back. But I know it only will be possible without mom and then I don’t know if I will be able to overcome the emotions and the sorrow.



Posted in daily prompt


Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?

2007. Pretty recent. But my life has changed a lot from then. I was working in the local newspaper as a senior writer in the international desk. My professional life was intense. My mom was healthy and was living independently in her flat. She didn’t need special care.

I made a trip to Croatia to see my family and friends. It was a wonderful trip. I went in winter and spent most of my time in Zagreb. It was very cold but I didn’t mind. Zagreb has its charm in winter. I met a friend I hadn’t seen in ten years. We spent hours talking in a café in Jelacic square, with a hot coffee and a satchel cake, to catch up with our lives. She’s a musician with a very interesting life. My family, as always , willing to please me in everything in spite they have almost nothing. I had a wonderful time with them.

From my desk at the newsroom, I wrote about many important events. I can’t remember all of them. I know Iraq was in flames. I think that was the year when Tony Blair left power and Gordon Brown took over in the UK and the year when Nicolas Sarkozy was elected president in France. What I remember was the big surprise and expectation at the end of the year when a young black candidate began to rise in the polls as the possible democrat nominee for the president of the United States. A black candidate with some possibilities to beat his white opponents. Something unthinkable a few months before.

So When 2007 was finishing, I was writing about an unknown (for us) black democrat called Barack Obama who was defying to known candidates as Hillary Clinton or John McCain at the beginning of the race to the White House.

Now Obama is in his second term, Gordon Brown is history, Sarkozy left the presidency and now is trying to return to politics. Only Putin remains in power. Iraq continues in flames and we have in addition Syria the IS, Ukraine, and all the African conflicts.

I’m no longer in the newsroom. My health broke. My mom had an ictus and now is a paralytic, so she need us 24/7. And make a trip is out of the equation. Yes, things have changed a lot since 2007

Buffalo Nickel.


Posted in daily prompt

Almost every day

When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?

A few hours ago. My mom always find some reason to tell me she’s proud of me. This time was because she says I’m the best at the task of transfer her from the bed to the wheelchair and from the wheelchair to the armchair.

I try to do it gently and calmly so she stays as comfortable and serene as possible during those transfers always complicated.

It’s something I do constantly. It was as if she were telling me she was proud of me for telling good morning each day. She caressed my hair while telling me how proud was of me when I was kneeling, lacing her shoes. One of those little moments I wouldn’t change for anything in this world.



Posted in daily prompt

Agree to Disagree: Mom

Do you have a good friend or close relative with whom you disagree on a major issue (political, personal, cultural)? What’s the issue, and how do you make the relationship work?

My mom and I are in opposite sides in politics. She loves politics. At 94 years old, she reads two newspapers and watches several news shows every day. Several years ago she suffered an ictus and got paralyzed. But her mind works as fast as ever. Now I have to go to buy her the papers and this is a heroic act of love for her. One of the newspapers is so conservative and monarchist that I never ever would buy it and let people see me with it on the street. The kiosk vender must think I’m schizophrenic when I buy my newspaper and my mom’s. When she talks about politics, which is often, I listen and say little. We both know where we are and know we are not going to change, So why argue? No way. We disagree in many other things, from fashion (she would like to see me better dressed) to soccer (she’s a Real Madrid fan and I’m Barcelona’s) We have a lot of fun together watching matches. Usually we use to connect via whatsApp with all my sisters, nephews and nieces around Spain and Europe when there is a match transmitted in the TV to interchange comments. Usually I’m in minority because almost all are with Real Madrid. It’s really funny.

Back to my mom and me, I only can say that we can live with our disagreement because we love each other very much and our love is stronger than our differences.

I have also close relatives and close friends with whom I disagree in religious matters, but again, the friendship is stronger than the differences. And this would require another post.

Agree to Disagree.

Posted in daily prompt


Describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time.

From I can remember I’ve prayed to God with faith. But I can remember a day when I had my first real prayer. A moment when I felt I was really talking with God. And it wasn’t in a church or while saying my prayers at night at my room. It happened in the street. I was walking across the square towards our home  with my family. It was Sunday. We had been at Mass and we had gone to a café to have a breakfast all together. We had stopped in a kiosk to buy comics. We were having a funny conversation, with my father, as always, making jokes. Suddenly I began to talk with God thanking him for my family using my own words, asking him about what he wanted from me. I felt he was listening and answering to my question. It was only a few seconds. Enough to discover what real prayer was.

In Good Faith.


Posted in daily prompt


A sanctuary is a place you can escape to, to catch your breath and remember who you are. Write about the place you go to when everything is a bit too much.

Today is one of those days when I would like to disappear, and get lost in a deserted beach, to have a long walk by myself. The nasty noises from the street and my neighbors are sounding amplified in my head, hammering my brain, and getting on my nerves. There is no way to focus on what I’m writing. But I have nowhere to hide. I’m trapped at home. I can’t leave. My mom cannot stay alone. I only can go out when my sister come to take turns with me. And then, I have so many things to do when I go out, that is not restful at all. My real sanctuary these days is the old gothic church, next block. I can enter when I want, enjoy the silence, the beauty of the architecture, admire the light filtering through the colors of the  magnificent stained glass rose windows, feel seven centuries of history in its walls, columns and arches, and discover the tiny red candle by the tabernacle, get close and have there a little prayer. These visits give me peace.



Posted in daily prompt

Not a pig

If you could spend the next year as someone radically different from the current “you” — a member of a different species, someone from a different gender or generation, etc. — who would you choose to be?

Today my mom have been remembering old traditions from her youth. She told us that in the New Year’s Eve party, they always let loose a piglet and the revelers had to chase it. The one who finally caught it, was considered as blessed with good luck for the new year.

She also told us that the little pig is a sign of good luck because when is looking for food always digs forwards with its nose while the hen digs backwards with its legs. So, that’s the attitude: go forward in this new year like a pig. But I would not choose to be a pig for a year. They have short lives and end up  to frequently at the butcher.

New year, new life, they say. But in real life things stay the same. It’s just a day that follows another day. We celebrate the coming of the new year with the hope that it will be better than the old one.

But there are so many things that are not in our hands… The problems are still there. The good things also. If I had the opportunity to spent a year as someone radically different, I guess I would choose to be me, but with good health.

I could choose to be an angel to be close to God and live in complete happyness, but, what about my family and the care of my mom? I can’t leave them for so long. It would be so irresponsible. But being me with good health would be fantastic. I would be able to take care of them much better.

Happy New Year to everybody !

New Skin.


Posted in daily prompt

My mom’s wheelchair

If your furniture, appliances, and other inanimate objects at home had feelings and emotions, to which item would you owe the biggest apology?

The first thing that came to my mind was my mom’s wheelchair.

In fact it’s great, I don’t know what we would do without it. Thanks to it, my mom can move around the apartment, go out and go to the park to enjoy the fresh air when the weather is good, go to Mass… Without it, she would lay in bed all day.

The wheelchair has done a lot of services. It served my dad untill his death, years before my mom got ill. And it’s still working dutifully.

If I could talk with it I would say: “thank you so much for your services. But I own you an apology, because I hate you! I hate you with all my heart! I hate you because of what you represent. I hate you because all the pain and the slow decline I’ve seen around you. I’m sorry, wheelchair, you are really wonderful and I’m deeply grateful to you, but I can’t help myself. I hate you.”




Wronged Objects.


Posted in challenges

No chances

You were caught in an avalanche. To be rescued, you need to make it through the night. What thought(s) would give you the strength to go through such a scary, dangerous situation?

A night buried in snow? Chances are that I wouldn’t have survived. I guess I would have died frozen or suffocated, waiting for the rescue that will come too late.

What would be my thoughts in such a situation?

During WWII my father was made prisoner and their captors made a day execute him at dawn. My dad once told me that when he realized he was going to die in question of hours, first, came to his mind like a flash everything he have left at home and at his work unfinished. But that was only a second. Then, his mother and my mother who was his girlfriend then occupied all his thoughts. Finally, he realized he was going to die and meet his maker, so God filled his thoughts during those last hours waiting for the fatal moment. When he was aligned with the others convicted against the wall, a last-minute order arrived and he was spared.

I hope my thoughts would have been like my father’s: focused in my family and God. I would pray fervently asking as a first measure that the rescue teams have night equipment and arrive in time. Second, I would ask strength to overcome the ordeal. Third ask God to forgive my sins and have mercy of my soul to reach heaven after get definitely asleep under the snow.

What a dramatic prompt we had today!


Under the Snow.


Posted in daily prompt

Bridges and flies

We all have that one eccentric relative who always says and does the strangest things. In your family, who’s that person, and what is it that earned him/her that reputation?

I cannot think of anyone. We are a very normal family, with a pretty eventful history, and some artists among us, but everybody is quite reasonable.

My father had some eccentric friends but they were mostly people traumatized by the horrors of the Second World War. They were a source of a lot of anecdotes. But for me it’s not fun. It’s rather sad. I don’t like to remember.

Thanks God, my dad managed to survive with a clear mind, and was always a quiet man.

They use to think that artists are eccentric. I would like to have a funny stories about my cousins who are professional musicians. One of them with a sound study in his home. A rocker whose son is a pianist. From my childhood I have lived with music around, and I consider all what they do absolutely normal. They are not eccentric at all. They are absolutely normal people.

Maybe the more eccentric of the family it’s me. I’m afraid of bridges and I avoid them when I can, making detours if necessary for my companions’ desperation. I have also a sister who is afraid of flies like they were wasps.

These are the more strange things I have found in my very normal family.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cousin It.”

Posted in daily prompt

A painting

What’s the best present you’ve ever received that was handmade by the giver, not store-bought? Tell us what made it so special.

Christmas 2007. I had just moved to my new apartment. My sister surprised me with her gift. A painting made by herself. She’s an artist. She likes the naïf style. I was expecting something like a landscape or a rural scene, full of colours, but instead she surprised me with a portrait: my dad as a young man. She got inspired in an old picture in which my father appears looking towards the horizon from the deck of a ship.

She knew that everything about my father is special to me. I miss him so much! No matter how long have been since he passed away, it seems it have been yesterday.

I miss his blue eyes and his smile. I miss his good sense of humor and his wisdom. I miss our long talks and our quiet walks.

Now the portrait that my sister made has a place of honour in my home.


By Hand.


Posted in daily prompt

Slow down

Fill in the blank: “Life is too short to _____.” Now, write a post telling us how you’ve come to that conclusion.

Life is too short to live it too fast.

Our society pushes us to do many things in a short time and live in a constant rush, so we can lost sight of the important things in life.

I have worked for thirty years intensely, without schedules, with a lot of stress, thinking I was doing the right thing, untill I suddenly found myself in my fifties, sick and exhausted having lost important moments with my family. It was like awakening from a long dream.

I don’t regret of my entire professional life, but I certainly would like it would’ve been less intense, with more time to dedicate to my family and the things that are important to me. Now there is no way back. I lived too fast. And life is too short. Those years of youth with my family are gone. I have to take advantage of the present moment and the years to come to enjoy life with my loved ones at a slower pace.

No Time to Waste.


Posted in daily prompt

Non ti scordar di me

You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?

The first poem that come to my mind is the Pirate’s song of José de Espronceda, because I learned by heart when I was a child in school. there were other poems we had to learn by heart, but were a bit corny and I didn’t like them, so I forgot them This one was great, talking about cannons and sails and adventures on the seven seas. I used to play to the pirates with my brother and my sisters all the time. The poem brings me sweet memories from my childhood.
I found a translation made by James Kennedy. I’ll copy for you the begining of the poem so you can have an idea of how it goes:

The breeze fair aft, all sails on high,
Ten guns on each side mounted seen,
She does not cut the sea, but fly,
A swiftly sailing brigantine;
A pirate bark, the “Dreaded” named,
For her surpassing boldness famed,
On every sea well-known and shore,
From side to side their boundaries o’er.
The moon in streaks the waves illumes
Hoarse groans the wind the rigging through;
In gentle motion raised assumes
The sea a silvery shade with blue;

Wonderful verses to a child imagination. This is the Pirate’s moto that appears several times during the poem:

“My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.”

About the songs, the first one I remember is always an Italian one, because it was the last one I heard my father sing before his death. He was in his hospital bed almost unable to move and talk. He was with his eyes closed as if sleeping. The TV in the room was on, and there was a program about the three tenors. Luciano Pavarotti began to sing “Non ti scordar di me” (Don’t forget about me) and suddenly my dad said: “I know this song”. And he began to sing with his frail voice to me:

Don’t forget about me:
My life is tied to you
I love you more and more
In my dream you stay

Don’t forget about me
My life is tied to you
There’s always a nest
In my heart for you

Don’t forget about me

Don’t forget about me

Three days after that, he died. That song stayed engraved in my mind for ever.

By Heart.

Posted in daily prompt


Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood.)

I don’t remember having an imaginary friend, but my younger sister Ana had one. He had a name – Gomiguan- and he was pink, although he was invisible for everyone except for her. She had insisted to set a place on the table for him next to her for dinner and I don’t know how my mom accepted. I guess it was because Ana was the youngest in the house, her baby girl. Ana had big conversations with Gomiguan, and spent a lot of time playing with him.

I remember that my older sister was a little concerned with all that. She thought it was lasting too much.

One of those years, we received as a gift a kitty. My older sister had an idea and said to Ana, pointing to the little animal: Look! Gomiguan has become a cat. She looked a little confused for a few instants but soon began to run after the kitty, calling him Gomiguan!, Gomiguan!.

From that day my sister stopped talking to the air, began to play with the rest of us and there were no need of an extra place in the table for an invisible friend.


Imaginary Friend.

Posted in daily prompt

Immortal soul and early terrors

At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?

I really don’t remember, but it must be at a very early age because death visited my family when I was very small and my parents surely explained to me what was all about. Including something I firmly believe: that my soul is immortal and after this life there is something else, much better, close to God. So my actions are not indifferent. I also believe that I’ll see again my loved ones who are gone. Because love doesn’t die either.

Back to my early reaction. I remember as a child wishing to die the day of the last judgment, because I didn’t want to have my body rotting in a grave.  I thought I was going to stay conscious and feel all that process as if I had been alive. I was terrified and had nightmares. My dad asked me what was the matter, and he explained me how things are so I stopped thinking that way and never had those nightmares again.

I also remember that when I was small I had something wrong in my leg, so I fell down often while playing in school. Once I asked my teacher why older people didn’t fall. She answered because if they fell they would die. Of course I believed her blindly. Next Sunday, we were going for a walk with my parents. My brother and I went ahead running down the stairs from the sixth floor where we lived to wait for my parents at the door of the building. Suddenly we hear a noise and saw my father’s cigarettes falling through the hole of the stairs. Obviously he had fallen. Then we hear my mom’s voice laughing. I thought horrified How my mom could laugh when my dad had died?.

When we saw both of them coming down smiling and talking, I realised my teacher had deceived me. My father had fallen And he had not died. My mom was laughing because nothing happened and the situation was funny.

Finite Creatures.


Posted in bad luck, daily prompt

My uncle

What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.

“So this is my niece. Cute. I hope she’ll be quiet. I’m here to spend as much time as possible with my sister, not to entertain children. It’s been so long since we were together last time! Years. We have a lot of things to talk about. With all this kids around, here in the park, it’s not easy. We’ll have time later at home, I hope.”

My first memory involving another person is being in a park with my uncle Tom. He was holding me with his strong arms and we were watching a beautiful landscape from a balcony over a valley. Later I learned that he came to visit my mom after years of absence. They were very close and loved each other very much. But life had separated them. He was young (36) and handsome. He was married but had no children yet. One day he said to his wife: let’s go to see my sister. And without more explanations, he hit the road and traveled all the way to Pamplona. They stayed with us three days, and then they said good-by and went back to their city. two days later we received a telegram with the news that he had died of a heart attack while sleeping. The next memory I have is my mom’s sorrow. I had never seen my mom so sad, crying, all dressed in black. Maybe this is why I remember that moment with my Uncle Tom in spite I was so small.


Reverse Shot.

Posted in daily prompt


How would you get along with your sibling(s), parent(s), or any other person you’ve known for a long time — if you only met them for the first time today?

You mean knowing they are family? I think I’d get along beautifully.

I have some experience. For a long time I’ve been forcefully separated from my family in Croatia. I met my aunts, uncles and cousins for the first time when I was 28 and I traveled for the first time to the Country.

I found lovely people, very happy to meet me after so many years. There were from the beginning some complicity and confidence you can only find in family bonds. We instantly got along very well despite we were technically complete strangers to the point that we needed pictures to recognize each other at the airport.

We are a close family. No major problems among us.

What would happen if I met for the first time my sister today not knowing she’s family? I’m sure I would try to become her friend, because I admire her so much because of her attractive personality, her good humor, her smile, and her virtues, that I’m positive she would leave a great impression on me from second one.

Delayed Contact.


Posted in daily prompt


If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, what would you do with your free time?

Work now would be a blessing to me. I had to leave my job because of my lack of health. And it’s hard to get used to this new situation. But I have no other chance. That’s life. I miss badly my newsroom, my colleagues, going out  in search for news, the thrill of getting an exclusive or some breaking news. Now I have to watch the game from behind the barrier and I don’t like it at all.

What I don’t miss are the sleepless nights, the long hours of work without schedules, the disorder and the lack of free time to spend with my family and my friends.

If health were out of the equation as well as money, I would work again as a Journalist. But this time as a  freelancer. This way I would be able to control better how much time I want to devote to my work and how much to my family.

Miracles don’t happen so often, and I don’t think I’ll recover my health. So I guess I’m going to spend my time doing house chores, blogging when I can, and, above all, taking care of my ailing mom, a real privilege for me.

Work? Optional!.

Posted in daily prompt

By the Sea

You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

This sounds familiar and I don’t have new ideas

Providing that this tunnel was magical and easy to dig, I would use it to visit my family and friends who are far away and enjoy the beautiful places I love, and now are out of reach for me. Therefor, I would need a two exits tunnel: one in some port of the Croatian coast and other in San Francisco, California.

With the first one I would take a boat and go visit my relatives from port to port and enjoy the beauty of the coast and its islands, towns and cities. I would go to my mom’s hometown of Senj in the North and sail all the way down to the south to pass to Montenegro and go to the Bay of Kotor where my dad was born.

With the second exit I would go to the city where I left some of my best friends, to catch up with them, have fun, enjoy the city wonders, contemplate the Bay, and have a walk in the Ocean Beach at the sunset.

If the secret tunnel only can have one exit, it would be definitely to a place by the Adriatic sea. I’m docked inland, and I miss the marine breeze in my face, the sight of the immensity and the power of the water, the roar of the waves. All these are like a balsam that opens my spirit, help me think more clearly and make me feel free.

Tunnel Vision.

Posted in daily prompt

My family

You’re embarking on a yearlong round-the-world adventure, and can take only one small object with you to remind you of home. What do you bring along for the trip?

No way. My sense of adventure has diminished over the years. When I was young and without obligations, maybe. But now?. I have to take care of my family. Can I take my family with me?  It would be no fair for them. I’m sure some among them won’t want to have a year-long adventure around the globe. I won’t go without them.

If I have to go anyway, I’ll take my phone with a lot of pictures of them and I’ll make sure to plan my stages and stop always in places from where I could call them or send them messages every day. I’ll won’t miss my home I’ll miss my family.

An Ounce of Home.

Posted in challenges

Trip to Zagreb (II)

Earlier in the course, you wrote about losing something. Today, write about finding something. For your twist, view day four’s post and today’s post as installments in a series.

Here is a link to the part I of this story

I can’t wait any more. There is no time left. The boarding time is approaching and I’m still waiting. I have my ticket with my reservation confirmed and I’m not going to be left behind. For the tenth time I go to the checking-in desk. It’s my last opportunity.

This time, the same JAT’s attendant that had rejected me nine times before, asks me now why am I so late! I can’t believe it. But I don’t have time to argue. I sigh in relief. At least I’m going to fly to Zagreb. I will be able to cover for my news agency and my newspaper the first free elections in Croatia and the political crisis in Yugoslavia.

I meet again my Spanish colleagues waiting to board the plane. We talk about our job. They are nervous because they don’t know the language and they’ll need a translator. I realise they know little about the country and the situation and less about the political parties and their leaders. I wonder how they would manage once there.

We board the plane. I’m surprised to see it’s almost empty. So the story about not enough seats for all the passengers that they told me when they sent me to the waiting list was a lie. My suspicions that I had difficulties because of my name arise again. But the important thing is that I’m on board.

During the flight they show us a propagandistic video about the wonders of Yugoslavia. Nothing about the crisis or the situations that are making news. The State is in a brink of a collapse. In the video all is idilic and wonderful.

I spend most of the time looking through the window. It’s my first trip to my homeland. I want to catch a first glimpse from the air. But it’s not my lucky day. It’s raining. I only can see grey clouds covering the landscape.

We land in Zagreb Airport. The border police officer take his time with my passport and begins to make questions about who am I, what am I going to do during my visit to the city, where will I stay, and so on. The other passengers pass quickly while I still answering questions. Finally, the officer seems satisfied and let me pass.

I go to pick up my bag. When I arrive all the luggages are already on the conveyor belt. I notice that my suitcase is not there.

Tom and Marko, my cousins, are waiting for me at the other side of a crystal wall. They are waving at me excited. We have recognised each other by photos. I’m trying to tell them by signs that I can’t go out because my luggage is lost. Tears fills my eyes. Not precisely because my lost bag. I’m deeply moved to meet my family for the first time. And now they are so close and still I can’t embrace them and speak with them because of that damn bag.

I go to reclaim my lost bag and after a lot of questions they tell me that it has gone to Belgrade with the plane.

Did they sent my bag intentionally to Belgrade? Did I lost something vital to my work in the process? How was my meeting with my family? Could I overcome the emotions and do my job?


Writing 101, Day Thirteen: Serial Killer II.


Posted in challenges

Three songs

The sound of an old Croatian song my father used to sing to my mother brings tears to my eyes even today. It’s a love song with a delicate melody and poetic words I can’t translate titled Good Evening, Marvelous. My dad had a fine tenor voice and loved to sing softly those beautiful melodies he learned in his youth. Songs written to be sung while looking at the sun sinking into the quiet Adriatic Sea in a gorgeous symphony of colors.

Oh how wonderful would be hear again that lovely voice and enjoy those joyful evenings with him singing and chatting. Those days are for ever gone. But the memories are so vivid!

No need to leave the sea to remind a second song significant to me. Is called Mediterranean, by a singer called Joan Manuel Serrat. It’s a poem about how people from the Mediterranean are. I learned to play guitar with this song. It reminds me my youth, the time spent with my friends, singing and playing, those happy days without worries.

A jump to the Ocean to find my third song very different to the previous. Take me Back To Manhattan from the musical Anything Goes. I had a lot of fun singing and dancing this song with my friends when I lived in San Francisco. We had a great time. It brings me memories of joy and laughter.
I use to sing it or humming it now and then, maybe with because I would like that the wish of the song comes true.
I know the lyrics by memory. It goes:
The more I travel, Across the gravel,
The more I sail the sea.
The more I feel convinced to the fact,
New York’s the town for me.
That crazy skyline
Is right in my line,
And when I’m far away,
I’m able to bear it for several hours
Then I brake down and say.

Take me back to manhattan,
Take me back to New York.
I’m just longing to see once more
My little home on the hundredth floor!
Can you wonder I’m gloomy?
Can you smile when i frown?
I miss the east side, the west side ,
the north side, and the south side.
So take me back to manhattan,
That dear old dirty town!

Writing 101, Day Three: Commit to a Writing Practice.

Posted in daily prompt, our life

Just Keep Swimming

Tell us about one thing (or more) that you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. How would you feel once you do? What if you don’t?

Keep living. That’s my main expectation for the year. Not very ambitious, I know. Or maybe it is. Who knows what can happen.

I don’t make big resolutions for the year. That doesn’t mean my life is empty of interests and projects. But now I have one priority: my family and taking care of my paralytic mother.

She was totally independent, had an ictus and suddenly became totally dependent. Her illness changed my life from one day to another. I learned not to rely too much in my plans for the year. Things can change when you less expect.

I’m glad I have the opportunity to take care of my mom. It’s a way to give her back the love she gave me during her life. Her smile is my best reward.
I’ll try to keep her as comfortable as possible, try to relieve her sufferings as much as possible, be with her, talk with her, make her smile even laugh. That makes me happy.

Of course I’m trying to do other things like writing this blog and another one about World News if I have the time. But as I said I’m taking my life day by day. Keep living. Or as Dory says in Finding Nemo, Just Keep Swimming!. One can achieve a lot by doing that.

Great Expectations.


Posted in daily prompt

My family and my computer

Have you ever become obsessed with something? Tell us about something that captivates your attention like nothing else.


Obsession is a strong feeling. The dictionary says it is a state in which someone thinks about someone or something constantly or frequently especially in a way that is not normal. I don’t thing I’ve ever been obsessed in my life in that way, thanks God. I thing that being too obsessive is dangerous. Of course there are people and things that occupy my mind frequently, but I would like to think that in a normal way. Number one? My family. I can’t get them out of my mind. They are my life.

Other things appear far away in my preference list, but I have to confess that I’m addicted to my computer and my iPad and that occupies a great deal of my mind every day, more than I would like to.

Lately I’ve been addicted to the daily prompt. I don’t know why I wait impatiently every day for the editors to release the prompt and start writing. I know I’m not too original or funny and I usually don’t have too much time to spend composing my posts, but I feel I’m part of a community of bloggers and that’s great. I enjoy share my experiences with people from all around the world and read what others have to say about the same topic. I also like the weekly challenges but I don’t have always time to participate.

Now we have a new page for the daily post, a little more complicated than before. I like the visual way the page displays the posts on the daily post page, but I miss the list of posts whith which you could easily send pingbacs to your fellow bloggers. I also miss the share buttons that made easier to link your post with the prompt. On the weekly photo challenge page, without the list of posts, you have no way to know if your entry has linked properly until you receive your first “like” and is more complicated to navigate to watch the pictures.

I don’t think the WordPress editors would read this post and read my suggestions. I guess they are already working to solve this problems, because I know I’m not alone in these opinions.


via Can’t Get it Out of My Head | The Daily Post.


Posted in daily prompt

Travel to innocence

If you could return to the past to relive a part of your life, either to experience the wonderful bits again, or to do something over, which part of you life would you return to? Why?

I like to live the present. I don’t see the need to revisit the past. What happened is part of my life. Part of who I am. A life with its failures and its successes, its good moments and its bad moments, its joys and its sorrows. But it’s my story and I can’t imagine another different. All the big decisions I took in my life have been taken out of love. So no need to do over important things.

There have been a lot of wonderful moments in my life. I treasure them but I just would leave them where they are, in the past.

Just to answer to the prompt I’ll say maybe I would return to my childhood, to be completely innocent again, free of worries, and enjoy playing hours and hours with my brother and my sisters. Be together again, giving free rein to our imagination, pretending to be pirates, wizards, knights and princesses, with our makeshift, paper made, crowns, hats, swords and cloaks. Imagining the park or our home was the Caribbean or an ancient castle with the most fabulous stories going on. We didn’t need many things or expensive toys to have a great time playing, just our imagination and being together.


via Daily Prompt: If I could Turn Back Time.

via Daily Prompt: If I could Turn Back Time.
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Posted in daily prompt

Moments to Remember

What are the three most memorable moments — good or bad, happy or sad — in your life? Go!

The moment I discovered the love of my life. A rainy evening, while walking in a garden near Bilbao. What a joy in my heart! .
When my family supported me during my illness and in my decision to leave my job in Spain and travel to the US to work there for a while. What a reassurance!
The day my father died. It was at dawn. He was at peace with his conscience and with God, holding my mom’s hand, praying. He passed away peacefully. I envy him. I’m happy because I’m sure he is in Heaven. But that day something broke inside me. I miss him so much. What a sadness!

Daily Prompt: Moments to Remember.


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