4th blogversary!!! – Or yeah I’m still here

Dear Readers,
Yes, I’m still here. Four years ago today, I decided to create a blog to share my book reviews and thoughts on different topics. I can’t believe it’s been 4 years. I have since finished high school, travelled around and started studying at University.
Usually, on a blogversary, I would do something to celebrate. Today I’m going to do something different. I’ll try to think of four things that have changed or been of importance since I’ve started this blog. Let’s jump right back in there:

1. Contents changed like seasons

Yes, a lot has happened since I’ve started. The book reviews are less present than they used to be and have made room for philosophy, general ramblings and sometimes poetry. It’s not that I don’t read as much anymore. I still read a lot. But most of the books I read, nowadays, are for Uni. Even though these books and texts are highly interesting, I haven’t quite figured out how to review those. Plus I’ve invested more time in a new hobby: Photography. Maybe I could upload some of them and show you, once in a while. Let me know if you are open to it in the comments. Another thing that comes to mind was my weekly series. I’m really hoping to start a new weekly series in the near future. If you have any suggestions whatsoever I’d be happy to take those into account. Yes, this post has taken a different direction but it wouldn’t be my blog if it hadn’t. As I am writing this I realize that I’ve missed writing and sharing my passion. The good old jumping around between subjects.

2. Dreams became reality and goals were redefined

November 11th 2015, a 16-year-old girl decides she wants to get a new hobby. She’s obsessed with reading books and lives in a lot of different worlds. So why not start a book blog and review her favourite book. She has just started high school and people tend to describe her as naïve and innocent. Well, maybe that’a who she was. But she’s changed a lot since then. She’s grown up and her goals have changed. Back then it used to be finishing high school and getting an apartment as soon as University starts. And a giant road trip through America. She had no idea what she wanted and was extremely scared of getting hurt. Four years later, November 11th 2019, she’s 20 years old, majoring in English at University and feels to have found her passion. Oh and she’s still living at home. Because as the years went on, she realized that to actually live in an apartment she had to have a job. And staying at home would give her the possibility of saving up. She’s sitting at her desk thinking back on her summer. That summer two dreams were fulfilled and she found out what she wanted to be when she was done with all the education. A professor, if possible, at university. And that’s a redefined goal. A new dream is leaving for 6 months in about a year and a half. I am going to have to leave for a study abroad. And while the idea is extremely exhilarating and thrilling, it’s also really scary. Because I will definitely choose a destination that’s as far as possible. No one is forcing me, but I just know that it pulls me to a destination very far away and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Of course, I’ll miss my family. But I guess it’ll feel right. And if not I’ll redefine my goal. What hasn’t changed is that I still have this torn feeling sometimes. Especially lately since I’ve been trying to “learn what those wings are for”. But that’s how it’s supposed to be and it is what it is.

3. I wrote a Novella

This is something I’m proud of. And it has been a very self-reflective journey. It’s a part of my family’s story and it opened a lot of doors to the past. I was extremely infatuated with the past for a while. And how all of these past events made us who we are. As well as how if they had been altered just a little bit, we possibly wouldn’t even exist. It took me about 4 months to finish it. And I worked on it every day and then it paid off. Back at high school, we had a prize for the best project at the end of HS. And I usually don’t win at competitions or anything because I’m a slow person, but this time I succeeded with something I’m actually good at. And I was extremely happy and surprised. Because I’m usually the person they tell to start formulating her sentences better, to be faster and to just do it. You can read the novella, on here as the first weekly series.

4. I overthrew personal boundaries, again

Most of you know me, and you probably know that I have dyspraxia which makes life harder sometimes. But I don’t want to ramble, especially since I’ve been working on those problems and as implied in the title been overcoming those boundaries. It’s not just my motor skills but my organizational skills as well. Meaning daily routines etc. I’ve worked really hard to achieve certain things and I’m happy that it’s not as scary anymore asking for help. I’ve recently started T’ai Chi which is very hard in the aspect of coordination but after 5 weeks of training, I’ve finally managed to master a certain move. Which just reminded me of the possibility to be happy about every little thing you achieve. I’m happy with my life right now because I’ve found out what it.

Thank you to everyone who read it this far, It’s now 1 AM where I live and I’m trying to figure out how to finish this blog post without making it too much of a yawn, Well, dear Reader, I tried. So I’m thinking right now is the time to go to sleep and explain tomorrow. Thank every one of you, who have started this amazing journey with me and stuck with me all this time. Special shoutout to Chaz and Aspen, the two best people. I’ll add the link later. Good night, hope you had a good day. And love yourselves. See you soon

sincerely

Gioia 🙂

Tides of Life – weekly series part 7 (Epilogue)

Dear Readers,

I know I’m a little late with posting today but I went to the Opera to watch “Così fan Tutte” (That’s how everyone does it)  and I came home pretty late. This post will be the finale of the “Tides of Life” weekly series. At least till I figure out how to improve the story. That doesn’t mean the end of my posts but the end of the weekly posts. Maybe I’ll do another series, let me know in the comments if you want that. It’d be great to hear some feedback. And maybe I’ll give you some background since it’s based on a true story. This is located at the same time and place where it started: The kitchen in Stralsund. Read the prologue here. So without further ado let’s begin:

                                           Epilogue

The tea had gone cold. Else was looking at her mother with a mix of surprise and awe. The story her mother had just told her made her wonder. It had seemed unreal, at times. Things she didn’t understand. “What happened after you left? There must’ve happened something.” Henriette was dreading that part of the story. Things that had happened were far too painful. Memories that gave her nightmares, haunted her. She sighed and looked at her daughter. “After I went back, my sister, your aunt Frederica only had a few days left to live. In the end she was forgetting things, she didn’t remember me. Didn’t know who her kids were. Not even her husband. I remember the day she died like it was yesterday. It was sunny, and very windy. Warm for that time of the year. She didn’t die in pain, it was quick and painless in her sleep. The kids, your half-brothers, were devastated. We all were. But I did what she had wanted me to do, I cared for them as if they were my own. And I loved them just as much. Your father was trying his best to move on and after three years of knowing your father we got married. Then you were born. Six years after that your father felt he wanted to love someone else. And he did. I believe you know the rest.”

Else looked at her. Another question right at the top of her head. “What happened with Jason? Didn’t you write him? Wasn’t he the ‘love of your life’?” There was a certain tone in her voice, the way she had chewed the term ‘Love of your life’, as if there was something bad to it. Henriette formed her lips to a tired smile. “I wrote him when I got back. I told him about Frederica’s death and how terrible it had been. I told him that I missed him. I told him about your brothers. I told him about life here. And I asked him about his life back in Hempstead. The paper he was working for. I asked him about how he was doing. And I told him that I hoped he would be able to move on. That he shouldn’t miss me too much. That nearly broke my heart, but I let him go because I loved him. And because I had made a promise. And I would never have broken that promise if your father hadn’t fallen in love with someone else. Jason wrote back, he told me that he was sorry about Frederica’s death. He told me that he missed me too. He talked about the paper, he was still in contact with Rachel and David, that they had gotten a son. He told me that he still loved me but that he understood the importance of having to let go. He thanked me for having been part of his life. For having been there. When I married your father, I stopped writing back. Jason didn’t, he kept writing. As far as I’ve heard he met someone. And he married her. I am happy for him, because I love him.”

Else looked like her mind was blown. So many things she hadn’t known. So many stories that had been left untold. She felt the sudden desire to uncover the truth. To find out more about life. “Does he still write? Occasionally, I mean. Not all the time, of course. And there is something else I need to know. Did you ever regret leaving Germany and then America?” she was curious. And that was good because that way she’d find out the most. “To answer your first question, that is a story for another time. You will find out when you’re supposed to. As to your second question, I didn’t. I never regretted leaving Germany, neither did I regret returning. I don’t regret living in America, working for Rachel and David. I don’t regret meeting Jason. I don’t regret leaving him. I don’t regret a single thing. Not the good experiences nor the bad ones. Because all those experiences made me to who I am. Jane’s death was one of the most tragic events, next to your aunt dying. It taught me to remember my own mortality. It taught me to value and appreciate life. And also, that you don’t have to go through all of that alone. That it’s okay to be scared or sad. Someone to cry and laugh with, someone who is there for you no matter what, is one of the most valuable things in life. I learned a lot of things in those ten years, maybe even the most important lessons in life. And as I said, I wouldn’t change one thing.”

It had started snowing. Snowflakes were turning the landscapes white and cold. Else looked at Henriette. Then outside the window. She took a sip of her tea. Silence filled the room. So many things left unsaid. Things to be dealt with. Stories to be understood. Else broke the silence, as she so often did. “Very interesting, truly. But please don’t expect me to reach my decision now. There is something in me. A desire to read and learn, to keep growing. And I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose a part of myself.” Henriette could understand her, once she had been scared to lose herself. And she knew what it felt like. But she also knew that Else was at a point where she would choose to do it. To take the risk of losing herself. “I won’t push you. You are old enough to decide for yourself. What I am doing though is giving you a chance to expand your mind. A world war is happening. If you join the paper now as a stenographer, you will learn to observe, anticipate, uncover and really see the truth. You will get to understanding why things happen when they happen. You will learn to always question everything. Have doubts. Don’t be satisfied with anything less than the whole story. Ask questions. That is what you’ll do. Now, I am not forcing you to do it, not in any way. But consider it. Really think about it. That’s all I’m asking for.” And it was true, that was all she could do. Now it would be Else’s choice. Her choice alone. And that was good. Now there would be another story to be told, new experiences. But that was something for another time.

Later that afternoon she took her Jacket and went on a walk. Outside the gate, down the path to the sea. Seagulls screaming and crying. The wind giving her mixed feelings. Looking at the sea, she remembered. That was where it had all begun. That’s where it would end. And she smiled, because she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

THE END!!!

Alright, I know that looks a little dramatic but I wanted it that way. I really enjoyed writing this and I’d love to continue writing in the future. Maybe next week there will be something about Philosophy or a book review? We’ll see.

I wish you all a good night, good morning or whatever time it is wherever you’re reading this from.

Have a great 3rd Advent or hope you had a great one if it’s already over.
Love,
Gioia

Tides of Life – Weekly series part 6 (chapter 6.2)

Dear Readers,
Today I didn’t really have time to write anything at all, because I’ve got a week full of exams ahead of me. So it’s not gonna be a huge intro. I just hope you’re all doing well and having a great Pre-Christmas time. To read the beginning of the chapter just click here. So let’s get started:

August 23rd,1898

A lot had changed in that year. Jason and I didn’t get married. He couldn’t wait for it that long. But we stayed good friends for the whole time. We were still lovers he still drank coffee with me and we went on walks. Late-night talks. Sunrises. Goodnight kisses. But it was different. There was a crack between us and it was widening every day. I worked more and finished more articles in my free time.

One afternoon Rachel was helping me with fixing up the kids’ room. They had made a chaos. Rachel turned to me and said: “Have you ever missed them? Your family at home, life in Germany. The people. Your siblings? It seems to me you have been keeping feelings to yourself and trying to deal with it on your own. Why is that?” I was surprised by that question; how did she think of this now? “In the beginning, yes, a lot of the time. Some days it was harder than others. The feeling of leaving them behind seven years ago, it almost broke my heart. Family traditions like Hanukkah or New Year’s Eve would make me sad in the beginning. It was a completely new world, Americans and their traditions, their culture. Their eating habits. But now, it feels like I’ve got two homes. And my home in Germany seems distant. Like a slowly fading memory. It feels like I’m losing a part of me. And that scares me. But since my sister has been sick, I am constantly reminded that a part of my soul still belongs there. Always will. On the other hand, I would not want to leave here, I feel home. It’s where my heart feels home. And if I had to leave you I would miss you like my own family. You’ve won a big place in my heart, you all have. Don’t worry about me dealing with things on my own, I’ve learned that a long time ago. And I am capable of doing so without having to depend on others. But thank you for your concerns. I really appreciate it. Why did you want to know that now?” She smiled: “It just crossed my mind. And I want you to know that you have become a big part of our lives, too, and that there would be something missing without you. You don’t always have to deal with your worries and sorrows alone you know? It’s not a sign of weakness if you let yourself get helped. If you can’t solve a problem alone or if you’re not keeping your feelings to yourself. It only means you’re human. I want you to know that.” I didn’t quite know what to say but it made my eyes fill with tears. I didn’t remember when the last time had been when words like that had touched me so deeply. I forced a bitter smile and said: “Thank you, Rachel. I know that now and I will keep it close.”

The next two years that followed were hard. One of my sisters back home tried to emigrate, too, but she got sick on the ship and was sent back. William and I had to provide for her treatment. And try to get her out of isolation on Ellis Island. We didn’t succeed. People were rather tense around the beginning of the new century. They were scared, not knowing what the future might bring. Trying to make predictions about the things that would happen. And I, as a part-time journalist was privileged to tell the world. Or at least all of Baywood. There was a lot of fear, industry made a big step forward, people were afraid that they’d lose their jobs. Machines became more important than workers. Working hours never stopped for construction workers. Jason had been called back to his old Job. Almost no breaks, hard work. But we never stopped seeing each other. And I still loved him. But we couldn’t make it work, no matter how hard we tried.
April 16th, 1900

“Dear Henriette,
I am sorry to give you the bad news this way. The cancer has returned. Worse than before. They say it’s everywhere. And now, the chances that I will survive another two years are next to nothing. There is something I am begging you to do. I want you to take care of my boys. When I’m gone they’ll need someone to care for them, someone they can trust. And someone who can help them through the pain. At least the two older ones Henry and Paul. George will be too young to really remember me. But I am begging you to take care of them as if they were yours. I know you can do this. And I trust you most of all. I am so sorry. I tried. But I just can’t win this fight. Not this time. My strength is leaving me daily. I can barely hold the feather I am writing this with. The doctors say they’re trying everything they can. They’re telling me to be strong, strong for my children. For my husband. Otto is trying his best to act strong in front of me, but I know he is having a very hard time dealing with it. I don’t know what to do. And I am scared that I might never see you again. If that happens to be the case, please know I love you. I love you so much my dearest sister. Please be there for my kids. I cannot leave them behind in peace. Cannot die in peace if I don’t know them to be safe. I am so sorry to have to tell you. But you’re the only one I trust most with them. Please don’t stop hoping. Don’t stop loving. I don’t want you to do that. I really hope to see you again.
Love, Frederica.”

It was like a kick to the stomach. A scenario of her lying there in a hospital bed, dying. I was drenched in pain. It was a sunny day. No clouds, less windy than usual. It was almost quiet even. I looked out the window to the beach and I knew I’d have to go. Have to leave Rachel and David, have to leave the kids. Amy was now 14 and Nancy would be 18 in a month. Nancy had grown to be an adult. Working and getting paid. Amy would be ready to pick a job and start an apprenticeship somewhere soon. And Nancy would fall in love and probably get married in five years. And I wouldn’t get to see it. In my thoughts I was with my dying sister. But also, with my family here. With Jason, who I would have to leave behind. And it broke my heart to admit it, but I’d have to make sacrifices for my sister and her children. I had a promise to keep and I would have to leave him. Leave my life, again.

February 15th, 1901

When the time had come, I packed my suitcases and my belongings. Looking back at those ten years I had spent here, I felt a deep sadness. Because these ten years had been the best in my life. Leaving a part of me behind. Saying goodbye to Rachel, David, Nancy and Amy. “Farewell Henriette. You’ll always be a big part of our lives and have a place in our hearts. Thank you for those years you spent with us, we will never forget you. Now go, live your life and remember you’ll always have a place to come home to, should you go to America again. We’ll miss you.” Rachel smiled at me. “I have to thank you for letting me stay, for taking care of me when I was sick, for letting me be a part of your family. I will never forget you. You shaped me in a way that I now know to appreciate. Goodbye.” Then I went to Ellis Island. Before I left I saw Jason. “You’re leaving, is it true?”, he sighed “You were the love of my life. Please don’t forget me. But move on, too. I am sure you will find someone and love again. I wish you that, and the strength to care for your sister. I will never forget you, Henriette Meier. You changed my life. We can still write letters. Farewell, my love.” his eyes were glassy. I smiled “Don’t worry. I could never forget you. You showed me what love feels like. And that is one of the things I am so thankful for. I am sorry to have to leave you but there is no other way. And of course, I will write you when I get there. I hope you find someone, too. Someone who won’t break your heart. Goodbye Jason. Farewell.” And so, we went our separate ways. I went on the ship and I didn’t turn back. Not once. And when I looked at the ocean I knew that a very different part of my journey was yet to come. And I felt ready because I knew that sometimes you had to sacrifice yourself in order to find peace in life.

So, I really wanted to end this in a meaningful, life-lesson way. And yeah, that’s it with Henriette and Jason. Or is it? Guess you’ll have to wait till next week to find out.

Goodnight, Morning or whatever time it is, wherever you’re reading this from.
Love,
Gioia

Tides of Life – weekly series part 5 (Chapter 6.1)

Dear Readers,
Happy December to you all. Christmas time means stress to most of us. Tons of exams, things to get done, presents to be bought and family. Christmas, however, isn’t only stressful but also a time to reflect on the past year and experiences. It’s a time to say ‘Thank you’ and to show love to the people you care about. Before starting off this chapter I want to talk about what Christmas used to mean and what it means now. When I was a kid, Christmas time was all about getting presents and celebrating and eating fancy foods. But as I’m growing up I look at it from a completely different perspective. I think about friends and my family and I can really appreciate the gift of being loved and accepted as I am. I think about the good and the bad stuff that has happened and I don’t regret a thing. Because sometimes we have to be sad in order to appreciate happiness. Sometimes we have to make mistakes so we can learn from them and improve ourselves in the future. And that no matter how much life sucks sometimes, we’re in control of how to deal with it and make it better. So remember, you’re in control of your actions. Now without further ado let’s start this chapter:

August 23rd, 1898

I remember three years ago, Rachel and David, Amy, Nancy, Jason and I were going back home from those eventful holidays on Fire Island. Three years had gone by so fast. It seemed like yesterday when Jason had asked me. We had been so happy, believing it would happen. Two people in love, thinking nothing in the world could harm them. It sounds foolish, but lovers are nothing but that, fools. And when something happens, everything turns into chaos. Three years ago, we didn’t see the storm that was brewing. But it was there. About to change everything. A tornado, ready to leave destruction in its wake wherever it goes.

We had gotten the news through a letter. That fateful afternoon in September there had been a knock on the door. I had opened it. My brother William had stood there. “William”, I had said surprised, “what brings you here? Follow me. Did you hear the news?” But he had looked very sad, and that meant he had heard something else. We had stepped into the living room. “Which news are you talking about? I’ve only got bad ones. Have you got good ones?” I had smiled, uncertain whether I should tell him. “I’m getting married. That’s my good news. His name’s Jason and I met him in my journalism course almost three years ago. What are your news?” he had seemed surprised and fighting with himself. “First off, congratulations on your engagement. I had no idea. But I’ve come here to tell you, something happened. Something very bad. Our sister, Frederica. She’s sick. Very sick. And they don’t know how to cure it. Our parents are asking us to send them money for the treatment. She has three children and they need to be fed and tended if she should…”, his voice had started breaking, “… if she should die.” It had seemed unreal. The tornado that was brewing and getting bigger every day. It shouldn’t have happened. She shouldn’t have gotten sick. “What can we do, or can we even do anything at all to help them? Is there something they need, except the money of course?” My brother had given me a sad smile and I knew there was nothing we could’ve done to make it better.

That night I had spoken with Jason. I had told him that we would have to wait with the wedding. Now the time I had invested in the wedding, had to be spent on helping my sister. He had nodded and tried to understand. He had tried to help me get through those hard months of uncertainty. Then they had known. Cancer. They had given her three years if she got lucky but that rarely happened. But still, I had to keep going. Working. Jason had gotten a job at a paper and I had worked overtime to pay for my sisters’ treatment. The years that had passed were filled with worry, anger and love. My love for Jason had grown stronger every day. If that was even possible. He had always been understanding, always helping. Amy and Nancy, in a way, were my saviours. The days I spent with them, watching them grow. It gave me the strength to keep moving on. To keep growing, as Jane had said. Another New Year’s Eve, 1896. Fire Island in summer. Nancy was now fourteen years old and Amy was ten. It was unbelievable how time had gone by so fast. A year after Jason had asked me we were still stuck in the same place. Nothing had changed. Except that now, we were providing for my sister at home. And back then everything had seemed perfect. My brother William and I regularly met for coffee to discuss the situation that hadn’t changed. But we kept hoping. Time didn’t stop for anyone. Then I had gotten a job as a journalist but had to turn it down because of my work with the kids. Then they had given me the chance to work there part-time. I agreed. Occasionally I turned in reports to the ‘Baywood Paper’ and would get a small amount of money for it.
Then, last year in May 1897, the good news came. A miracle had happened. My sister got better. We got the news three weeks after they had found out. The cancer in her body had started decreasing. They had said there was a chance she’d survive. Truly no one had believed that, but we enjoyed the months when it got better. We got letters from her saying she was feeling much stronger. In one letter she wrote:

“Dear William, dear Henriette,
I want to truly thank you for the things you did those past two years. I know you have had a lot of work to put in to provide for my treatment. And either the treatment is working or there really are miracles. I enjoy seeing my three boys and Otto has tried so hard to keep them as far away from those worries and fears as possible. I have heard that you (Henriette) are getting married. What is he like? Thank him too. I heard about his help. Tell me all about him in your next letter, will you? Have you already forgotten your promise? Now William, how is your wife, and how are the kids? I’m sure they’ve grown up very fast. I can see it every day with my boys. They’re growing up so fast. And I am so thankful to see it all. Cancer has made my body weak and now I am very thin. It was eating me away. But now there’s hope. Hope that I will live on to see my children get married and become a grandmother. Mother and Father are worried, they look at me, fearful. As if I might break only through their glances. I understand it but it’s not something I enjoy. I think it to be rather hateful. Our other siblings are doing really well. Two of them finished school this summer. They will start working soon. What else is there to say? It was really lonesome in that hospital bed and I am glad to be home again. What does the sea look like from your side of the world? Is it as wild and carefree as it is here?
Write back soon, I cannot wait to hear from you.
Love, Frederica”

And that letter made us hopeful that she would soon be well enough to provide for herself. And that she would be in good health, living on. I could finally enjoy time again. Feeling less worried. A weight that had been lifted off of my shoulders. I was free from those worries now. Jason and I could finally get married. My sister would be better than ever, and we would see each other again. I would go visit her and meet my nephews. Life would finally turn around for the better again. All those problems would dissolve into thin air. Rachel and David would become the godmother and godfather of my children and I would be a mother. I looked out of the window, the waves were high, there was a storm coming. I didn’t care. I ignored it. The stormy sea was not going to change the fact that my hopes and dreams had been lifted up high. The wind was blowing, I heard the sea gulls screaming. Then I put a feather, ink and a paper on my desk and replied carefully:

“Dearest Frederica,
Your letter made me smile when I read it. It’s full of hope for a better future. You cannot believe how happy that makes me. And I hope you will soon make a full recovery. As to Jason. That’s his name. He is 26 years old, living in Hempstead, which is thirty minutes away from my home. I met him in my journalism course three years ago. He is tall, has dark, wavy hair and is extremely handsome. Furthermore, he is a gentleman who works at a paper in Hempstead. I fell for him after drinking a lot of coffee together and getting to know the man behind those beautiful eyes. He is the love of my life. And I want to spend the rest of it with him. That is a completely new side of me. I would turn my back to boys. But with him it’s different, he showed me what it was like to feel safe. And I haven’t felt safer any place else than in his arms. No, I haven’t forgotten about my promise. But right now, you are my priority. It truly is a miracle. You have made me believe. Of course, mother and father are worried. There is no way they wouldn’t be. But they will change and stop looking at you like that. I am sure of it. The sea does not look any different here. Maybe it’s a little less rough than it is back home, but not very much. I can’t speak for our nieces and nephews, for I don’t see them very often, but I can speak for the girls in the family I work and live with. It’s unbelievable how fast they grow. When I came here they were a 4-year-old scared toddler, hiding behind her father’s legs and an 8-year-old straightforward little girl. And now they’re 11- and 15-year-old, adventurous girls with an energy that never lessens. Playing hide and seek, running around, fighting about not doing homework, and the fears they have that are so easily overcome. They’re growing every day. How old are your boys now? I cannot wait to see you again. If I have enough money after the wedding, I will come visit with Jason. You’d love him. He’s the person that always has your back and that is always trying his best to be there for you in any way possible. Shortly, he’s perfect for me. And I’ll do everything in my power to make that visit happen. Get well soon.
Love, Henriette”

I wanted to end this with positive words so that’s it for today I guess.
I wish you Goodnight, morning or afternoon wherever you’re reading this from.
Love to you all,

Gioia 🙂

Tides of Life – Weekly series part 4 (Chapter 5.2)

Dear Readers,

Part 2 of this immensely long Chapter as well as a blog post. To understand this chapter you have to read the beginning of it, which you’ll find here. Without further ado, let’s get this started:

Those next few months were lonesome, I grieved but I lived on. Just as she had told me to do. Some days it was harder than others. I worked really hard every day. It was harder to get Amy to do her homework than it was with Nancy, every day there were fights on why she didn’t want to do it. Or why she simply wasn’t going to do it. She’d rather go out and play with her friends. Which was understandable, considering the wonderful weather. Nancy was easier. She lived in her own world, books were her saviour. Her escape from the fast life that was going on around her. Next year, Jason and I would graduate from the journalism course. Life didn’t slow down, and Jason supported me on every step of the way. He was there for me when I couldn’t get myself out of bed in the morning, he laughed with me about life’s bizarreness’ and we went on long walks on the beach. That summer Rachel and David invited him to spend the holidays with us in their cabin on Fire Island. He was amazing with the kids. And we all went swimming together.

One late afternoon in July Jason turned to me and said: “Let’s go on a walk. Do you see those cliffs? Let’s walk there.” He was pointing at the cliffs two miles away. It looked beautiful in the sunlight. “Yes, I do. That’s a good idea, it looks really beautiful. Let’s go!” I answered. We started walking. It seemed like a never-ending path. Silence. He seemed very quiet and nervous. Why would he be nervous? He surely wouldn’t ask me to marry him, or would he? No, it couldn’t be. I wasn’t ready. We had been together for two and a half years now. It was possible. Now I was getting nervous. I didn’t know if I wanted to marry him. I loved him, with all my heart. That was for sure. But I didn’t know if I’d be able to take that step. Leave the people I now lovingly called second family. It seemed like I had only just started to really feel at home. I looked at the ocean, waves crashing into the cliffs. Breaking. New waves. The same process all over again. Never stopping. Rough landscapes. I could see the cabin from afar. Hiking the rocks uphill. Looking at those masses of water. No answers. I looked at Jason. We sat down. Jason spoke first: “It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it? Nature truly is a wonder.” He paused, looked down at the beach and continued. “There’s something I need to tell you. There’s a reason we walked up here.” And now I was scared. “It truly is beautiful. And I figured that you didn’t walk up here with me for no reason. So, what is it?” I tried to sound relaxed. “I don’t know how to start this. I’ve been trying to say this for months. First off, I love you. And what I am about to say, might scare you, but I want an honest answer.” Now it was clear to me what he was about to say. And I was scared. “I love you too. And I promise to try and answer as honest as possible.” Hoping that it would help him say the words. “I know we’ve only been together for two and a half years but with you, it feels like I’ve known you my whole life. And that is not something I feel with every person. You give me the feeling that there is something more important in life than my job. What I’m about to ask you is”, he knelt before me and took out a ring, “Will you spend the rest of your life with me and be my wife in good times and in bad?”

There it was. The question of all questions. And he asked it out in nature on a cliff. Even though I had known that he was going to ask it, I was overwhelmed. And still, I didn’t know what to say. But a part of me knew the answer already. “Jason, I love you. I truly, deeply do. I just don’t know if I’m ready yet. Please give me time, time to let my heart heal and see if I’m ready for it. Please don’t make it a ‘now or never’ decision. I am so sorry that I can’t give you ‘Yes’ for an answer yet. But I’m not giving you a ‘No’ either. I’m just saying give me time. That’s all I’m asking for. A little time.” And I looked into his eyes. There was disappointment. Pain. I had hurt him. Not on purpose and I had given him exactly what he wanted. But still, I had hurt him with it. “Henriette, what can I say. I don’t know what to answer to this. I understand that you need time. Yet, your answer gives me nothing but uncertainty. I understand that you’ve had a very hard time with Jane’s death but think of what Jane would’ve wanted you to do. I won’t push you, but I will set you a limit. A deadline, if you want. I’ll give you five days. Meet me at the café where we had our first date in five days and we will figure it out then. Okay?” That was only fair, and, in that moment, I felt he was the right one. I suddenly knew it. He would’ve given me time, but I realized I didn’t need it. And in my mind, I saw Jane, smiling and nodding at me. I remembered what she had said in her letter. It was what she would’ve wanted. And it was what I wanted.

I started running. Jason had already started to walk back. I screamed. “Jason! Wait right there, will you?! Please.” He turned around, waiting, I ran towards him and almost tackled him down. “What is it with you Germans and tackling, has no one taught you manners?” He chuckled. “Sorry for tackling you.
It was the only way you’d stay. Will you just listen and say nothing till I’m finished?” His face took a serious expression. “I can try. No promises here”, he said. “I know that I possibly broke your heart when I said I needed time. But there’s something I need to say. This is not easy for me. When Jane died, she left me a letter. And in that letter, she said that she wanted me to live on, even if I grieved her. It seemed like an impossible thing to do at the time. But here I am talking to you. About to do exactly this. I’m sorry that I almost broke your heart and now try to fix it. But I don’t need five days. I’ve made my decision. And it is that ‘Yes’ I want to be your wife for as long as I live. I love you, Jason. And nothing can or will stop me from doing so. If you still want me to.” Jason was, expectedly, speechless. And he had no idea how to deal with that rapid change of mind. “I… I’m not sure what to say right now. And I am not completely certain you’re telling me the truth. To be honest with you, of course I still want you to be my wife and spend the rest of my life with you! But how will I know? How can I know that you love me and want to be with me if you told me five minutes ago that you weren’t sure?” This was understandable. “I know this is all very confusing and not fair to you. But the only thing I can do is tell you, and trust that you love me regardless of my mistakes.” He kissed me, looked at me for a long time and said: “I wouldn’t be able to stop loving you that fast anyway. And there’s still time. We don’t have to marry tomorrow. There’s still many months’ time. But let’s go tell them!” He seemed euphoric. I was still shocked. “Yes. Let’s go tell them.” And so, we went. That night we all stayed up long. Letting the day’s happenings sink in. We could see the stars. And when I looked up, I felt happiness fill up my body and I listened to the steady heartbeat of the man that I would spend the rest of my life with. Everything would turn out to be good. At least that’s what I had thought.

Now I wish you all a wonderful week and an amazing day. Maybe I’ll write another post until next week,
Sincerely yours

Gioia

Tides of Life – Weekly series part 4 (Chapter 5.1)

Dear Readers,

Concentration is lacking and it’s been harder but I’ll still post this. However, I hope you’ll enjoy the next chapter. Because of the length, I cut it in two blog posts. So let’s get started:

November 20^th,1894

The leaves falling.  6:30 AM on a Monday morning. Something felt weird. I felt dizzy and as I stood up the room seemed shallow. Going down to the kitchen, I walked into Rachel. “Good morning, Henriette. Is everything okay? You look like you’re not doing so well.” She had noticed. “I am feeling fine, a little dizzy may-…” I didn’t get to finish the sentence. I felt my legs give up under my body weight. A loud buzzing filled my ears. My vision started to fade. Unconsciousness.

When I opened my eyes, I was in my bed. Or was it my bed? I didn’t quite know anything. “You passed out again. Do you remember anything?” Doctor Julian said kindly. “I remember feeling weird and dizzy this morning. Everything seemed far away and then walking downstairs, that’s where I’m lost.” I was wondering what was wrong. “Have you had this rash for a long time? What were the symptoms?” It felt as if this conversation had already happened three years ago. And it had, back then I had been typhoid. Now it was something else. But the symptoms were almost identical. Except that now I could move and felt a little less vulnerable, I could think straight. “I didn’t notice the rash at all. I was very concentrated on work. And I can only remember feeling weird this morning. Like something was wrong. But ignoring it obviously didn’t help”, I croaked. It turned out to be Erysipelas.
But luckily it was not fatal. I would survive. And that was clear from the beginning. Yet I still felt feverish. And the rash looked awful. Again, Rachel and David took care of me as if I was their daughter. They made sure I would get well again. Jason visited me at home, he would bring me flowers and stories from the course. He’d tell me everything about what was going on out there. Never did he mention that the way I had treated him was wrong. I didn’t realize, he was distant. Rachel and David did the best they could and a month later I was well enough to cook dinner for Hanukkah with steaks, carrots, potatoes and bread. It was a feast. My fourth Hanukkah with them. It felt like home even though it was still new to me. And it was one of the best Hanukkahs I’d had. We went to mass, they were religious people, and the choir sang traditional Jewish songs. I had never gone to mass with my family back home. They believed in God but didn’t go to church very often. But Rachel and her husband took their kids every year. It was tradition to them, to me it was something else.

For Hanukkah Amy and Nancy got presents, even though this was not traditional. One each. Amy got a little horse carved out of wood and Nancy got a book about Robinson Crusoe. It felt unreal how fast they had grown. I still remembered Amy hiding behind her fathers’ legs and Nancy telling me to better be good. Now they weren’t shy but brave and adventurous.
Another year, gone to an end. New Year’s Eve. 1895 here we come. There were fireworks, people celebrating. The day after I went on a walk with Jane and a couple of her friends. Looking at the ocean. Walking on the beach. The wind was making our hair fly. Suddenly, Jane turned around to me and said: “It’s weird how time passes us by, isn’t it? It seems to me like yesterday when you walked into the library and asked for a book about romance and adventure and I gave you Jane Eyre. And that’s how you learned my name.” She looked sad. “Yes, it is. It’s going by so fast. I don’t even remember what it was like without you. Is everything okay, you seem like something is bothering you.” I always noticed when something was wrong. “Me? I’m fine. It’s just…I have to leave. And I don’t really want to, but my mother isn’t doing so well. I have to move back to Texas and take care of her. She’s very ill. And it doesn’t seem like I’ll be coming back anytime soon. It looks like she’s dying, and I have to tend her. I’m leaving tomorrow.” That gave me a little shock. I looked at her, thinking about whether or not I should say something. “I am so sorry, I had no idea. How long has she been ill?” were the only words I could utter “I didn’t even know about it exactly till yesterday. She’s been ill for two months now, but they only found out about her condition a few days ago. I really have to leave, I’m sorry. I hope you understand.” Tears filled her eyes. “Of course, I understand! You can’t just leave her there. I am so sorry you have to go through this. I wish you the strength to support her and also support yourself. You won’t have to go through it alone. I’ll send you letters. And you can tell me how you feel all the time. I won’t let you be alone in this.” And I meant every word. “Thank you. Really. I wouldn’t be able to survive this without you. And I will send you letters and you can tell me everything too. I just want to wish you a good time with the kids and also with Jason. He seems like a really good person. Don’t let him walk away. I’m going to miss you, Henriette. Goodbye.” She smiled. A sad smile. “I promise not to let him go. And I will enjoy every minute with him and the kids. I’m going to miss you too. We’ll see each other again. Goodbye Jane.” We hugged, long and hard. Had I known then that Jane was such a good liar, and had I known that those were our last words spoken, I would’ve said so many things. But I didn’t. So, we went our ways, her knowing that we’d never see each other again and I thinking it was a goodbye as any other goodbye.

The letter came four months later, from Texas. It was her handwriting. I opened it and read the words carefully and slowly. She had written:

“Dearest Friend,

When you read this, I’ll be somewhere else. When you read this, I’ll be somewhere in heaven, or wherever the hell t is we go when we die. I’m sorry you had to find out that way, but when we said Goodbye on January 1^st, I didn’t want you to look at it as ‘The Goodbye’, I wanted you to spend a great time and be happy, live your life. I didn’t want it to be overshadowed by the fact that I was going to die very soon. I wanted you to have faith and hope. And, no. There was no way you could’ve done something. My mother was not sick, I was. Tuberculosis. The doctors told me a day before we last saw each other. And back in Texas I hoped to find remedy. But they’ve told me that there’s no way they can heal it. So I am writing this letter to explain it to you. Remember how brave Jane Eyre was when she went to live with that family? I want you to be just as brave as she was. And please don’t grieve me for too long, grieve me and remember me, but live on. You deserve to live now and not dwell on the past. My time has come, and I had a good, maybe short, but very good life. I want you to value your time, just as I did mine. Maybe I’m watching over you now, maybe I’m in a long thick sleep, I guess I’ll know when you read this. Now, please remember me but don’t let it take your life away. Maybe we’ll see each other again, one day wherever I am now. And you’ll tell me all the wonderful things that happened in your life. And we’ll laugh about the bizarre, unimportant things. Just because it’s funny. I hope you cherish your life and meet many great people, friends that will laugh and cry with you. I hope you never stop believing, never stop growing. Farewell.

With love,

Jane”

 I read it again. At first, I couldn’t believe it. How could she just leave and never return? I read it again. But that didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that she was dead. It felt so unreal. She had known. She hadn’t told me. And now she was gone. And then I could see it. Right in front of my eyes. The pain started to kick in. My legs were shaking, I had to sit down. Tears started streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. Rachel came inside from the garden. “What’s wrong, what happened?” I showed her the letter. She had known that Jane had been my best friend. Still was. Rachel hugged me and held me in her arms. She was like a mother. And she kept saying soothing words, like ‘it’s okay, shush’ and she just held me. And I kept crying into her clothes. The stream of tears didn’t seem to lessen.
I didn’t know how long we had spent this way. But when I got out of her hug, the tears didn’t come. They had stopped. I went to the kitchen. It was around dinner time. Doing something else would distract me from the pain. Otherwise, it would’ve been unbearable. It wasn’t bearable, it wouldn’t be for a long time. I knew that. But I still got out the frying pan and started chopping vegetables and added milk and eggs.  I made omelettes, the food that always made me feel better. Dinner that night was quiet. Amy and Nancy seemed to notice something had happened. But I tried my best to hide it from them. They shouldn’t be sad, only because I was grieving. When I got them to bed and tucked them in, I read them a bedtime story. They always loved these. And they almost always fell asleep to it. After ten minutes Amy was sleeping soundly but Nancy couldn’t seem to fall asleep.
“Can’t you sleep, Nancy?” I whispered. “I don’t know why but I’ve got the feeling that something is wrong. Has something happened?” she was extremely empathic. “It’s nothing that would have to concern you, you can go to sleep without any worries. And I will fight off the bad dreams with my bare hands.” I knew she had been having nightmares lately. He’d never really talk about them, but he’d mention a thing or two. “Thank you. And will you save me from the bad people?” he sounded very serious. “I will, my queen. I will fight them and let no harm come near you for as long as I live.” That seemed to convince her, and she yawned. A few minutes later she was asleep. I closed the door behind them and went to my room. That night I couldn’t bring myself to sleep and wished to be a kid like Nancy again. To be in a time when the biggest fears were nightmares and the deepest pain physical. Because those things could be fixed. You could heal from a scratch on your knee, you could overcome your fear easily in trusting someone else to keep you safe. Being an adult meant taking responsibility for your own actions. It meant dealing with problems and pain alone. At least that’s what I felt it to be. I felt very lonely and lost that night. Had someone told me I didn’t have to go through it alone and had someone told me that life wasn’t over when someone dear died, I would’ve had more strength to move forward than I did then. But it was a lesson I had to learn. And in an indescribable, sick way it shaped me. Made me who I am today.

So I hope you enjoyed the first part of chapter 5 and are as shocked as I was when I wrote it.

Goodnight, morning, afternoon or whatever time it is at yours right now.

Sincerely yours,

Gioia

Tides of Life – Weekly series part 3 (Chapter 4)

Dear Readers,

Here we go again. You might’ve been waiting for the next chapter so without further ado, let’s get started:

                                                                       June 7^th, 1891

         It was a beautiful house. Three steps that led up to a green door. I rang the bell. The door opened and a pair of kind, deep eyes stared at me. “Hello. You must be Henriette. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Rachel. My husband and I are very happy to welcome you to our home. Still, there are rules to follow. Rules that you have to obey in order for this to work. But first I’ll show you to your room. You must be tired.” Those were her first words to me. Rachel was a tall woman with a strong sense of order and justice. She was a woman of determination and you could see that from the way she moved and talked. People who didn’t know her might’ve described her as severe and maybe even mean. But she was always kind to me. And I knew to appreciate that. Her brown, wavy hair was always tied to a knot which made the impression that she would not tolerate chaos.  “That is true. It’s a pleasure to meet you too. Thank you for the job offer in the first place. It is very kind of you to give me a chance. And I will do my best.” She nodded and said some words I didn’t understand. I followed her. She led me up a set of stairways and opened a door which led to a small room. It gave me a feeling of home. It had a small window with a breathtakingly beautiful view on the ocean. I laid down my suitcases and went into the kitchen. It was a big house and I felt like I would get lost on my way downstairs. So many new sensations.

By the time I got to the living room, dinner was ready. Which was where I met Rachel’s husband David and the kids, Amy and Nancy. They were four and eight years old. Amy hid behind her father’s legs. But Nancy came straight up to me and said: “Hey, I’m Nancy. It’s very nice to meet you. I hear you’re going to be my new Nanny. Better be good”. David tried to hold back a smile. “She can be very straightforward sometimes so, don’t take it too seriously.” For dinner, there were fries and Campbell’s beans. What an unusual dinner. It was a new culture, that was for sure. We ate quietly. After dinner, Rachel put the children to bed and David poured himself a glass of whiskey. Its colour was golden, just like one of our sunsets back at home. But then I remembered that this was my home now. I went to bed without any further conversations and let all those new experiences sink in.

The first three weeks went by in a haze. I had a lot of work to do with the cooking and the kids. Every day at 7:30 I had to wake them, make them breakfast and bring Amy to kindergarten and Nancy to school. When that was done I was washing, cleaning up, fixing broken things and running errands around the house. At lunchtime, I started preparing for when the kids would get home. Homework with Nancy, who usually never did them if you didn’t ask for it, board games with Amy. Storytime. Stories about boys having adventures. Dragons. Maidens that had to get rescued by the Prince. In the late afternoons, I prepared dinner. Short, I was the maid for everything. The work was hard, and some days I wished for a change of things. But they were good people and made my life there as good as possible. Sundays I had my break day. I would go out and take walks to the beach. Explore nature and watch the waves. It reminded me of home. At the beginning that used to make me sad. I missed them. I wrote letters, it took a long time for them to arrive, but I would write them anyway. I’d tell them everything. How life was like here, how much I missed them, and what the people were like. I’d describe landscapes and tell them how different it all looked. I’d ask them questions, on how they were doing, what the news was back in our hometown and how my siblings were developing. And I’d send them money.

Then I got sick. I felt it in the morning. My body gave me signs that it wasn’t doing good. Maybe I had eaten something bad. No, it couldn’t be that. Otherwise, the kids and Madam would’ve been sick too. I ignored it at first. I’d had a stomach ache and my skin was itching. Something was wrong. But there was work to be done. Kids to be looked after. Food to be prepared. Errands to be run. I wanted to do it all. Work felt more important than some sickness I was carrying inside me. So, I continued as if nothing was wrong. After three hours of work, I fell unconscious.

I didn’t know how long I had been lying there or even where I was when I opened my eyes. A pair of two hazel, worried eyes were looking at me: “Good morning Henriette, I’m doctor Julian. Do you know where you are and how you got here?” I felt slightly dizzy and gave a simple “No, I do not” as an answer. “That’s completely normal for your condition. Do not worry. You’re at the hospital and we can help you. You passed out. Your landlord found you on the floor and they brought you here. You had been unconscious for quite a while.” Looking around, I realized, that the room I was in was an examination cabin. I looked at the doctor and asked: “What is my condition, if I might ask. And how long will it take to be healthy again?” He looked at me with an apologetic look on his face and said: “We have not yet found out for sure what your condition is, but as an educated guess I would say you were infected by Typhus. But to be completely sure I would like to run a few tests and ask a few questions. Is that good with you?”

Being in that hospital bed, not really being able to move, for my feeling of weakness had overcome my muscles, I didn’t really have a choice to say no. “Now, how long have you had this skin rash, and tell me what other symptoms you’ve been experiencing.” I had to think hard, maybe it had been there already and I hadn’t noticed. “To be honest with you, I did not notice the rash till yesterday evening. The past few days I have been feeling sick and feverish, but I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t feel it to be important.” That was all I knew before it started. And then I started seeing things. Fever flooded my brain. There was a fire burning in my body and nothing seemed to soothe it. The good moments were those when I was unconscious. Because then I didn’t have to feel anything other than the black nothingness that controlled my body. When I was awake, the fire felt worse than anything I had ever experienced. I stared at the ceiling and started hallucinating. I saw things that weren’t there, people dancing with me. Talking to me. Telling me to let go. They gave me medication, but the diagnosis was not very promising. Many people had died due to its affecting the body and organs.

When I was getting a little better they sent me home. Rachel and David cared for me with all they had. I still had fevers and nightmares. But they did all that stood in their power to keep me alive.

After weeks of sickness, I was finally doing better. From that point, I worked harder than ever before, because I felt there was a lot to make up for. And there was, because not everyone would’ve done this. Months passed, living for one purpose only: Work. Because with it, I could concentrate on things that mattered. I could run away from the homesickness for a while. Sometimes it was extremely hard though. Family feasts like Hanukkah were moments when I felt loneliest. It would remind me of home and give me a bittersweet ache in my heart. But as time went on, I started to love the people, to love this place. Life in America seemed to normalize itself.

I learned what it felt like to have two places to call home. After a year of being there, I felt like I had really arrived. I realized that I still missed home but now it was more of a memory that I could look back to and smile at. Letters became less frequent due to storms and problems at the post office. But that was something I could live with. Summer, autumn, winter and spring. Another year went by without me really noticing it. Holidays on Fire Island. Swimming and staring at the wonders of nature. I saw Amy grow from a shy, scared little toddler to an adventurous, brave young girl. And Nancy to a bright, trusting young woman.

As to my free time, I preferred going to an Irish pub or the local library where I met Jane. She would grow to be my best friend and very helpful in situations when I couldn’t bear it anymore. Jane was a very honest and straightforward person. If she was angry at you, she’d let you know. And if she thought you had made a mistake she made sure you would be reminded of it. But other than that, she was the kindest person I knew. And one of the most important ones too. She was there for me all the time and supported me when needed. Late-night talks about dreams and desires. Watching the stars. Short, she was really important to me.                                                                                                                                                                                                   May 15^th, 1894

In my third Spring on Long Island, I had made enough money to finance a college course, where I learned how to write like a journalist. It was one afternoon in a week. I learned to observe, to anticipate, to see the things no one else sees. It was hard, but it also broadened my mind.

One day of those afternoons a handsome, 23-year-old man with a strong built body, smiled and sat down next to me and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Jason. I am the new guy. What’s your name, if I might ask?” He smiled at me and gave me a very firm handshake. “I’m Henriette, the not new girl. Very nice to meet you, Jason”. He laughed a little and said: “Where are you from, not new girl? You sound a little different. I’m from Manhattan, by the way.” That was a very nice way to ask where someone lived, so I answered. “Originally, I’m from Germany, but I’m currently living in Baywood. I moved here three years ago. Do you live around here somewhere?”, I said. “Oh Germany, what’s it like there? And yes, I do. I’m living in Hempstead. It’s not very far from here.” We were interrupted by the beginning of the class. After we were done he said: “Would you like to get a coffee sometime? Because you seem like a very interesting, smart, beautiful young woman who has so many stories to tell. And I would like to listen to them.” I started blushing a little. But he seemed like a gentleman and I wanted to get to know him, so I agreed. “You might take me to the next forking in the road. And we could set up a meeting time and place.” We did that and agreed on a coffee after class the week after.

That night I couldn’t sleep. My mind was somewhere else, somewhere very far away with the tall, wavy, dark-haired boy I had just met. And I felt something that I hadn’t felt before. A feeling I couldn’t quite grasp. I felt an indescribable happiness and a smile that I couldn’t stop.

One week later we went to a small café and talked. There was a lot of things to talk about. I learned that he had grown up in Manhattan and that his dream had always been to work for the paper. But things hadn’t turned out as he had first thought and he had taken an apprenticeship as a construction worker, at the age of sixteen. He had always hated his job as a construction worker, but he had to earn money in order to fulfil his dream and go to a journalism course. And now he had tried to get a diploma, hoping that papers would take him. The reason for his passion with words and journalism had always been the truths about certain events and honesty. To bring truth into the world. To find out the reasons of actions from other people. I told him that journalism had been something that had just gotten my attention a few months back. I couldn’t quite say why. Some things just happened. After we had finished drinking our coffees, we decided to meet again. He walked me home and gave me a hug. “Thank you for the coffee, it was really nice. You were really nice. I suppose I see you next week? Goodbye.”  I said.

When I got home I took my Jacket and went on a walk with Jane. “He’s so smart, so nice and he always makes me laugh. And he most definitely is a very interesting person.” I couldn’t believe it. “That sounds to me like you’re falling in love with him.” I gave her a look that said everything. “But maybe I’m wrong and you talk that way about all the boys,” she said. “I don’t know, I might. But what if he is not who I believe him to be? I’m scared of the pain.” And I was. Really badly. “Fear is part of life, but only because you’re scared, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Fear shouldn’t stop you from living your life.” I thought about what she was saying, and it made sense, to some extent. But there was a part of me that still didn’t quite believe it. “I will try, I can’t promise anything, but I will at least try.”

And with those words I went back inside and made dinner. Rachel had seen him. “Who was this young gentleman earlier who got you home safely and hugged you?” One part of me wanted to go hiding in the living room. But I knew better. “Good evening Rachel. His name is Jason and he is new in my journalism course. We had a coffee and it was getting dark, so he made sure I got home safely.” Rachel smiled but said: “That is good, as long as you don’t involve Jason into your work life. You must not get distracted by love.  I will not tolerate such behaviour. I am sorry, but I will have to let you go if you get careless.” She seemed really serious. “I understand, Rachel. And I am well aware of the importance of concentration in the job. I will not let you down.” I meant it as I was saying it. These coffee meetings went on for the next few weeks. And as the months went by, I started to fall in love with him. Afternoon coffees turned into late-night talks at the beach, hugs into kisses and affection into love. I enjoyed every minute of it. But we didn’t have much time. I had my job, taking care of Amy and Nancy, cooking and taking care of the house. He had his job, working construction. Sometimes it was hard to see each other at all, apart from the course. I missed him, but I felt work was more important, so I decided to slow down what had turned into a relationship.

But had I known then how things would turn out I would’ve valued those moments with him far more deeply than I did then.

This is it. The 4th chapter. You’ll see what happens next week. Goodnight, Good Morning or whatever time it is wherever you’re reading this from.

Sincerely,

Gioia

Tides of Life – Weekly series 2 (Chapter 3)

Dear Readers,
Number 2 of my weekly series, here we go! I hope you’ve all been having a great week and that you enjoy every single day. Let’s get started:

June 4th1891

I had been on the ship for two weeks now. I knew that because there was a clock. And I always knew when a day was over and another one started. I was on a cargo steamship in the steerage. 3rd class passenger. Not allowed to be on the deck for more than an hour a day. In a cabin with three other people. One toilet for fifty people. The desperation was terrible. Not knowing how much longer we’d be on this ship. It was a prison. People stashed together like cargo. Talking objects.
Peter and I had been separated. Unmarried men and women were kept in different dormitories. Which was why we couldn’t see each other. Only families could stay together. But luckily my cabin members were kind people. There were Eva from Germany, Susan and Hanna from Ireland. Susan and Hanna had already been to America and they were returning to their hometowns. Originally, they had left because of the aftermath of the Great Famine. Whereas Eva and I went there for the first time. We were inexperienced and more vulnerable than they were. Not knowing what was expecting us. America would change our lives.
There was a tension on the Steerage floor. Especially on Wednesday of the first week. The first few days had been quiet. But there it was. The wind got stronger, we picked up speed. Which, at first, was a good thing. It meant that we would arrive in New York at least a day early. But the wind kept getting stronger. Whistling sounds, the power of nature to destroy everything in its path. A storm had been bottling up. And the silence, the almost peaceful quietness that we had felt on our first few days, was gone. The wind was playing with our ship. One side and then to the other. Waves about forty feet tall, there was a smell of anxiety and tension in the air that day. Would our ship sink? The excitement that had been on most of the people’s faces was now gone. Fear got the better of them.

Being on that ship, in the middle of this storm, scared me. But it also made me think about past choices I had made. And there were a few things I regretted in my short life. Not always appreciating my family and what they did for me. Not standing up for myself when “Miss Rich Lady” was blaming me for something I hadn’t done. But I couldn’t look back now. What would’ve been the use in it?
Belongings of people tumbling and rolling around on the floor. Objects that were of personal value for them. Mementoes of a past time. People reflecting on their lives.
I didn’t know how much longer we would last on this ship. And then I saw the workers throwing out boxes of apples. Unloading. Workers moaning under the heavy load of that job. I wondered why, they said they’d have to free the ship from weight, otherwise the ship would lose its balance.
The next morning the storm had gone by and the sea was still. No movement. And then the awakening of most of the other passengers. It was noon, so the sun stood high already. The vastness of the ocean was two things: Terrifying and Beautiful. Terrifying because there was no end, no consistency. Just the ocean and our ship. But beautiful because at the same time it made me hopeful that there was a better future at the end of the voyage. As I was standing there at the bulls’ eye staring, I felt that I had a perspective. A future. A life. And I was so thankful for that.

The next few days were rather unpleasant. I ate bad food. The result of that were constantly needing the toilet, which was rather hard these days, and being in our cabin all day. But Hanna was tending me, she knew how bad it could get if you had eaten something bad. The food on the ship could give you the chills and fevers. Which I got after initially throwing up. It was a terrible few days. As a result of the delusions of my fever, I could see my family waving at me. Wanting to hug me and shake hands. But no matter how hard I tried to grasp them, they were just too far away. And I thought to myself, what would’ve been if I hadn’t gone on that ship. I’d be with my brothers and sisters, as well as my parents. But I had left them behind. I was alone and helpless. I couldn’t trust anyone. But then I felt a cool hand on my hot forehead. Hanna was here. Through my clouded mind, I could see her smile. But I wasn’t quite sure, due to my hallucinations. She was taking care of me. Giving me water, carefully though and not too much. This went on for 4 days. It was hell. Some days I knew where I was, some days I didn’t. The fear, the helplessness and that feeling of being left alone. A silent hell without hope.
But on the 5th day, I was finally feeling better. I could even keep some of the bread down. And I hadn’t been left alone. I’d made friends. The sun was setting when I felt strong enough to stand on my feet again.
I hadn’t been the only one with that sickness. The smell of vomit was a constant one on the steerage floor. Everyone had to rely on their cabin mates. Because we weren’t looked after by the crew, we were treated like cargo. We weren’t too expensive, and we hadn’t paid as much as the others. They treated us with less respect and looked at us to be less worth than the others.

I stared out of the bulls’ eye. Still nothing but the ocean. Waves rising and falling steadily. In a heartbeat. It felt like this journey would never end. I was starting to lose track of time. The only thing I knew was whether it was day or night. I wasn’t alone, yet I felt lonely. No one could understand my feelings, my thoughts or fears. Or so it seemed. On that ship, I had a lot of time to think. To reflect on those things in my head. To keep having faith. Believing that we’d make it. Believing in a better future, a better life. Finally, being free to make my own decisions. To take responsibility for my actions. Taking chances. Some days it was easy, some days it wasn’t. Days that felt like centuries and days that felt like hours. Sometimes it was easy to laugh, for example when Hanna, Susan or Eva made a joke about something they had just heard on board. But there weren’t many of those. Most days were filled with worried glances and sighs. Each person facing their own troubles and thoughts.

I looked at the clear night sky and I thought about how small I was. Compared to that infinity I was about the size of an ant. It made my troubles and fears just as small and less important. Looking at this beautiful view of millions of stars, I felt calm. I realized I wasn’t completely alone. That those stars were the same stars the people I was missing were looking at. It made me feel close to them. Not as if I was miles away from the people I loved. But as if I was right there with them. Those were some of the best nights on the ship. It was when I could really let go. When my head could go wherever it wanted to.

After two and a half weeks of being on the ocean, the captain finally announced we’d arrive in a time range of the next two days. Of course, everyone was very excited. In our cabin, Hanna and Susan were glad to go back to their hometowns. Whereas Eva and I would start a new life. New people and new Jobs. New routines. Jumping right into it. It was a big step. No going back. Just forward. And somehow it made me happy. It meant freedom. That was all I wanted right now.

The next day I heard screaming. But it wasn’t screams of sadness, it was joy. So, I left the cabin to see what was going on. I fought my way to a bulls’ eye to see what they saw. We had arrived in New York. I could see the statue of liberty from afar. It represented hope, future, perspective and so much more.
We had made it. After all. We were there. Just a few kilometres separated us from NEW YORK. We had survived. As I was staring, I felt like I had just climbed a mountain to its very top. The future was there, right in front of me. I could almost grab it. I was there. All those worries, the tension, the fear: gone. Finally, after those two and a half weeks that had felt like an eternity.

The 1st and 2nd class could disembark right there. No further examinations, no questions, nothing. But the steerage floor had to go through full body examinations, which were sometimes embarrassing and painful. After that stressful questioning followed, “What is the reason of your stay? Are you able to finance your life? Do you have any mental illnesses? Do you have a criminal record, if so what are your crimes? Are you an anarchist?” Not much time to answer them. If one answer was peculiar, further investigation started. And then, if we were lucky, we could go straight to the counter with our passports. A young man was standing there with two stamps. One said “Approved” the other one said “Denied”. I went to the counter, gave him my admission papers and passport. He smiled, stamped them and said: “Welcome to the United States of America”.

Walking out of the building with my papers and my suitcases, I realized that I was now an American. Not looking back. I was over the line. Done. Taking deep breaths, I could still smell the ocean. But I also smelt freedom and choices. Nothing could stop me now. No one. A new beginning. That’s what it was. It felt good. I looked at the pavement. Then at the trees of Castle Gardens. Those first steps were big. A little scary. But that was okay. It was good even. It meant the change into a new society, a new life. And change was always hard in the beginning.
Strangers. People everywhere. And the buildings, they were huge. And I felt so small in that society I barely knew. Standing there, completely amazed by everything, I bumped into someone. I mumbled some “Sorry” and quickly started moving again.
Suddenly I remembered what I had been searching for. My brother. Standing there. As amazed and in awe I had been, I had completely forgotten that my brother would pick me up. So, I started looking around. Trying to find him and possibly his wife. I had always liked her. And my nephews, they’d be there too. But it’s really hard to find a person in about a million other people.
Eventually, I found them. It was really nice to speak to someone who I knew. To family.

Sitting in the car, on the way to my brothers’ new house in Rosendale. I took everything in. The buildings, the streets, the spirit. Everything. And it was overwhelming. To see so many things. To think that this was my life and not a dream.
We arrived at the house. It was beautiful. A garden. “How are you feeling, dear? You must be hungry. And tired. How was the journey? Were there nice people? Has the food changed? Did you have a hard time finding us?” Questions which I could answer shortly but not very detailed. “I’m good. I definitely could use some food. And yeah, I am tired. Yes, it was mostly good, except one time. We were in a terrible storm and we had to throw overboard some of the apples to be able to continue because the ship was too heavy. But other than that, it was fairly well. It hasn’t really changed. It was a little hard finding you with all of the people.” We ate, caught up on each other. My brother wanted to know a lot about our parents and our siblings, of course. “How are mother and father? It’s so hard to read it in their letters, it’s always a guessing. I never know whether they’re doing well or if they need anything. It’s hard not seeing them sometimes, you know? But on the other hand, I don’t regret coming here. Not one bit,” he said. “They’re doing okay considering the circumstances. I can imagine. They have a lot of mouths to feed and with you and I being off to America makes it a little easier. But they do not need more than the money you and now apparently, I, are sending them over. I get that it’s hard, I already miss them too. I just hope I can ever feel at home here.” I meant it, as I was saying it. “You will. At first it will be hard. But with time, you’ll feel as much home here, as you did there. And you’ll meet new people. Friends. Pick them wisely. You never know when you need them.” That gave me some hope. I didn’t quite understand why but I didn’t feel as lonely.

After dinner, I suddenly felt tired, an unbearable tiredness. The stress and everything just disappeared into thin air. And my energy with it. Gone. I changed into my nightdress and fell into a deep, recovering sleep.

A few days after, I was ready to leave for my new home. The family that I would be working for. Who knew how long? I hadn’t unpacked. It was windy in New York, that day. And maybe it was just a feeling, but maybe it was the wind that made me feel ready. It made me feel as if I was entering a new story. And I could only find out where it was heading if I thrust myself into this. Fully. Completely. So, I did. I didn’t know what they would be like. I had no idea if I’d ever feel at home where I was going. In a nutshell, I just had to have faith.
The carriage pulling out the driveway. Leaving again. Cars and buildings moving past me. Landscapes. The Hudson River. Out of the city. Manhattan. Queens. Hempstead. All the way to Baywood. Everything was new. But now, compared to the voyage I had taken, I had someone. I wasn’t alone anymore.

This is chapter 3, I hope you enjoyed it and if you’ve read till here congrats for making it.

Good morning, night or whatever time it is wherever you’re reading this from.

LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE and ENJOY

Sincerely yours,

Gioia 🙂

Tides of Life – Weekly series 1 (Chapter 2)

Dear Readers,
You might remember that I told you quite some time ago that I was writing a Novella. If you didn’t, you do now. Well, I finished it and because it is far too big to put into a huge blog post I will post a chapter weekly. Which is still a lot to read. I could split up the chapters and make it a little less hard to read for you. But I’m not sure yet. To read the beginning click here and then read the following posts till this one. So let’s get started:

May 1st 1891

These two and a half months had gone by without me noticing. It was starting to get warm and the flowers were blooming. Spring was my favourite time of the year, at least it used to be. From now on I would only see spring as the time I left. But in a way, it made sense. Spring was supposed to bring change. New Beginnings. It was supposed to bring life to the world and its inhabitants. And that was exactly what it did. Soon I’d be leaving for America. I had no idea how long I would be away from home. I didn’t know anything. Except that I would be working for a family that was rich. And that my brother knew them. “Henriette, come on downstairs. We need you in the kitchen!” my mother was calling from the living room. “In a minute!” I answered. It was time for ‘The Talk’, and I knew that. Compared to last time, I was ready. So, I went down into the kitchen. They were already sitting there. “The reason we called you down here is, you’re leaving in 15 days. And we don’t want to send you off without knowing anything about the world and how people act,” Mother said. “I’m twenty years old and I am capable of taking care of myself.” It really was true. I was ready to explore the world. And in a way, I even felt excited. In a good way. I would meet new people, be part of their lives, walk side by side. Life would be different without my family. I’d miss them terribly. That was something I could be sure of. Because I already did. “We know you are. We just don’t want to send you off without having told you why. We love you. And you might’ve had problems believing that lately, but we don’t want you to think we did it out of money problems or anything else. We want to be able to give you a future, a perspective if you want. And we can’t give that to you, not here. Not in this situation. That’s why we’re sending you away. We’re so proud of you. And we know that you will find your way over there.” They said it. And I understood them. But it still broke my heart to see them this way. “I want you to know that I understand. I’m not mad. I’m going to miss you. But I also know that it’s a chance. I’ll send you letters. Loads of them. And one day I’ll maybe even be thankful that you sent me to America,” I said. Maybe one day I would be. I didn’t know anything about the future, but what I knew was that no one could control it. It was just happening every day. And it was ruthless. It showed no mercy at all.

The sun stood high in the sky, which meant it must’ve been about 2 PM. I would have to start packing soon. Which was difficult, considering the fact that I didn’t know how long I would be gone.
I went upstairs and opened my closet. Looking at all the things that used to belong here. Turning around to look at other things in my room. The bookcase, with all those books, carefully stashed away; stories of people on adventures, exploring the world, seeing new places, meeting people and learning things about different cultures. Soon I’d be on my way to a far-off land being on an adventure myself. And as scaring as it was, it was also exciting.
My belongings weren’t a lot but still enough to need two suitcases.
I started with my clothes. Packing them carefully, so everything had its place. In all of these clothes were memories. Times when I’d been playing with my siblings, running around, doing stupid things. Those times were over. I needed to grow up.
When I was done with packing my clothes, I put in all the books I wanted to keep. And those were a lot. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to keep everything. I knew that. So, I only took those that I really couldn’t leave behind. And of course, the book that my mother had gotten for me. Because that book would help me improve my English skills. And I could definitely need those in America.
I opened the window, and from afar I could almost hear the sea. Waves crashing into the cliffs. And I wondered what it would be like, not waking up to the sound of the sea and the wind. Waking up far from home. Millions of miles. Nothing but the buzzing sound of cars and a city that never sleeps. A family that was eager to get to know me. Which was a beautiful thought. With the exception that I wasn’t too keen on meeting them. At least not yet.

A loud noise pulled me out of my thinking right back into reality. I looked around, nothing was there. Probably just my siblings bumping into each other while playing hide and seek. Nothing bad. Everything was fine.
I closed my suitcases and went downstairs. There were a few days left to finish packing and I’d take those to say goodbye to everybody. I looked at my baby sister and smiled, she wouldn’t remember me. Then I saw my sister Frederica who was two years older. She had just gotten married to a man named Otto Sandhagen. And soon she’d leave too. The difference was that she could come back to visit our parents and I couldn’t. But I was happy for her. Happy because I cared. Happy because I knew she had worked hard for what she wanted. She turned around and said: “Two weeks. That’s all we’ve got. Two weeks before you leave for the States. Let’s go for a walk so we can talk a little. About the future and milkshakes. And about all those crazy things you’re going to achieve.” I was a little baffled by that proposition but gladly agreed, “Sure, let’s go.” So, we went. Outside into the fresh air. Away from our house, crossing the fence, we figured we had no idea where we wanted to go. But after a split second of staring into each other’s eyes, we knew.

45 minutes later we arrived at the beach. We sat down in the sand and looked at the sea with its constantly crashing waves. “I know, two weeks is such an unbelievably short time. Especially saying goodbye to you is something I can’t imagine doing. We can’t tell what might happen. But we’ll definitely exchange letters. And we,” – she interrupted, “we’ll tell each other everything. And if I get pregnant, you’ll be the first to know. Next to Otto, of course. And you’ll tell me everything about any handsome young man you’ll enchant with your charming personality.” We went on like this for quite some time. Until we ended up having a laughing fit because we came up with the weirdest ideas on how to keep in touch. After that my sister went very quiet. As if there was something she was worried about. Something she didn’t dare to say. But I didn’t push her. Because I knew she couldn’t be pushed. She’d isolate herself if I did. But then she smiled and said: “I love you, little sister. And I want you to take care of yourself. To not get hurt by people or things. You have a big heart and I’ve known you since you were a little toddler. I also know that you can handle your life. I just want you to be careful. Okay?” she looked like she took it very seriously. “Okay. I will take care of myself. You should do the same. I love you too, my dearest sister.” We hugged each other, and a feeling told me there was more to it. More behind her words than just that. But I let it be. Afraid of its true nature I shoved it into the darkest corner where no one could find it. Not even myself.
It was getting late and by the time we got home, it was 6:30 PM. My little sister was home. She looked at me with those eyes that told me she knew how torn I felt. Of course, she did. No one was as sensitive as she was in those matters.

My mother called. Dinner was ready. Bread and butter. A little jam from last year and a little meat. The best food we had. It tasted good. And I took a sip from my cup of tea. Dad was there too. Everybody was sitting at the table. Our whole family together. Dad didn’t have to work on Sundays. Which meant it was the only day everybody sat at the kitchen table and ate together. It wasn’t much of a tradition, but it was something. It was one of those times when we could talk about anything and nothing at all. This time I valued even more, now that I would only have one dinner left. My siblings would eventually grow up as well. Maybe leave for some other country. Or maybe they’d stay. Work here forever. Marry, have children and a house for themselves. I helped my mother clean up and went to bed.
The next day at work felt like forever. I’d have to quit soon. Hearing the news would probably make them happy. They never liked me anyway. And they let me know every day I came to work. Whenever something was done wrong, it was always my fault. Even if I hadn’t done anything wrong. They just assumed it was me. Of course. But then I remembered. I wouldn’t have to tell them. They already knew. Rich lady had already told them. And everybody knew.

Those two weeks had gone by in a rush. It was my last night at home. My last night with my family. And I felt torn. In a way, I knew that this would be the adventure of a lifetime. I also knew that I would make my own choices and take my own risks. But in another way, I felt a deep, cutting sadness for leaving behind the people I loved the most. The pain of having to hurt someone you care about. The fear of never seeing them again.

That night was very long. We talked and laughed at daily basic things. But there was an unspoken tension. I could feel it, my sister could feel it, we could all feel it. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Neither did they.
After dinner, I helped clean the dishes and talked to my mom. She looked at me and said: “Tomorrow you’re leaving. And before you do, I want you to know that I’ll always love you. You’re a strong, young and independent woman. And I know that you’ll find your way. Just make sure you don’t let people get to you. If they don’t accept you for who you are, they’re not worth it. Take care on your voyage and don’t trust anyone.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I had to hold back my tears. What my mother said to me touched me. I only got out a “Thank you, mom”. And then we hugged. For a very long time. I talked to my sister afterwards. We spent the night talking. About all sorts of things. Until we fell asleep. Exhausted to the bone. Thick, dreamless sleep. Nothingness. No troubles, no worries. Nothing.

The next morning my dad took me to the train station. The tickets in my pocket, I hugged him one last time. Then I turned around and I didn’t look back. I knew that if I would, I would’ve seen my father crying and I didn’t want that. I got on the train and heard the puffing sound of the engines being turned on. And as we were driving away I looked out the window. I could see the landscapes passing by. Away from home. Into a new beginning. And in a way, as I was looking back, I felt peaceful. Like there was something that told me. Everything was going to be okay.

After a six-hour train ride and sleep, I woke up in Hamburg. It was nothing like I had imagined. It was huge and there were steamships and people all gathered around waiting for their ships to take them to a different place. Waiting for their future to begin. And there was a mood in this place that I couldn’t quite grasp. A mix between fear and hope. People asking questions. Place of destination, birthplace, age, marital status, ability to read and write, health. List, passenger 35064. And then I came to the waiting halls. Sweat, suitcases and the sound of thousands of people talking. Getting ready. I found my place for the night and fell asleep immediately. The trip had made me tired. I didn’t even have the possibility to think about all the things I had seen today. So many faces and stories. It was a lot to take in and I had to find a way to deal with it. That night it was hard to find sleep, but at one point I felt so exhausted that I fell asleep anyways.

The next morning was cold. At first, I didn’t know where I was. After completely waking up I realized that I was in the Emigration centre. And wasn’t allowed to leave the premises. I didn’t know why but that wasn’t important. While going to the food halls, someone bumped into me. “Hey sorry, beautiful young lady. Might there be the slightest chance of me escorting you to breakfast? On my account. I’m Peter, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I was a bit baffled by his way of introducing himself. What was he thinking. Talking to a stranger like that. But I said yes because I enjoyed some company and distraction, and a few minutes later we were eating bread with jam and cheese. Drinking coffee. As it turned out later, we were on the same ship.
“Thanks for escorting me. I had a joyful time. I’m Henriette, by the way. How come you’re leaving Germany? What are your reasons?” I wanted to know. Hearing about other reasons for leaving would probably help me understand. “Well, first off, that’s a beautiful name. Secondly, one of the many reasons I’m leaving is the chance of a better life. I don’t have many chances here. I’m already working as hard as I can, but it’s just not enough. There’s this longing for more. This yearning for a choice. And I can’t have that here. There’s not enough place for this. I feel like America is the only place, where I can truly reach out to my full potential. Where I can follow my dreams. And you? What drives you to leave home?” He actually wanted to leave, I could see it in his beautiful brown eyes. There was this glistening. And somehow, I knew he was being honest. “My parents forced me. We’re just too big of a family and they can’t afford my living at theirs anymore. And my brother lives over in New York. Apparently, there’s a job for me as a cook. It wasn’t my idea. And at first, I was vehemently against it. But now I’m not so sure. It seems like it’s a chance for something new.” We finished the food and went to the main hall. It felt good to talk to someone. And I knew to enjoy it as long as I could.
The next two days we could see a lot of desperation. People leaving because of their religion. Having to leave because of what they believed in. Many Russian Jews. Those days passed in a rush. A few days later on May 20th, the ship was ready. I took my suitcases and got my last medical check-up. Which was an obligation on these ships. I showed them my papers and went on board. And as I looked down, I could see all those family members of other passengers saying goodbye. And I knew that was it. The beginning of a new life.

I hope this wasn’t too much to read. And that you’re curious about what happens next week.

Whatever time it is, wherever you’re reading this from, I wish you a great time.

Gioia 🙂

Still here

Dear Readers,
I haven’t been on this blog in almost three months. Dear Readers,
Quite unbelievable that I’m still here, huh? I haven’t been on this blog in more than three months. But the reason for that is that there was and still is a lot going on in my life right now. There might be some things to explain for you to understand. First off, I had to finish my Novella and hand in the Matura paper, which is a thing you do in your last year of high school in my country. It was a lot of stress and I had to get it done for the deadline. I have finished it and held a presentation about it, which is really relieving. But that doesn’t mean stress and exams are over. And I’ve just had to focus so much on doing well at school that I didn’t have the time to really write or read. Which, frankly, sucked. And yeah, I’m gonna have more time in the future. And yeah, this might turn into a travel blog one day (hopefully summer 2019). But right now it’s just not possible to write book reviews with quality. Another thing that is taking time away lately is that my dad is not doing so well and he’s been in the hospital for almost a month now. And even though I don’t have the best relationship with my dad, he’s my dad and it scares the shit out of me seeing him like that. And I’ve visited him a lot lately which means I come home from school rather late. And then I need to study or do homework or something else. And yeah, I know it’s all about the organisation. So I’m gonna try that. It’s just not that easy sometimes. But I’m gonna try. And as soon as I get my grades up I’ll be more active. Actually I think I’m gonna make a weekly series out of my Novella, so each week I’m going to post a chapter for you to read. If you’re interested that is. Tell me in the comments if you’d like such a thing. This is just a reminder that I still exist and that this blog will live on for the years to come. As I like to put it. This is it for today, because it’s getting late and I need to get some sleep.
Goodnight, Good Morning or whatever time it is, wherever you’re reading this from.
Yours truly,
Gioia