Anniversary Message For Bf

A Good Start ...

I wanted you, my dear first of all thank you for it, with all those days You were with me and my age Ruinka!
not even imagine how much meant for me, your words of encouragement, your support and all these layers of sound energy, which I przesylaliscie. And when, in the biggest moments of doubt, I read your comments like:
"... woman, do not despair, give advice and Bite ... go ahead!" or "... it's worth, fight on, do not give up!" or "... you give advice, because you're doing something important!" His teeth, and I moved forward, repeating Your words like a mantra when everyone knocked his forehead, calling out what I am doing! It is you already
dodawaliscie me your faith forces to fight! And how often is one thing, the only word can change so much.! I struggled! And Dalam advice! And that's all thank you so much!
Before me new challenges, moving to the cottage and further repair ... so we will continue your support just ... indispensable!

A Good Beginning, this New, Year 2011 song dedicated to all of you, Mark Grechuta 'Days, which you do not know yet. "




We had so many days to a loss of strength
The loss was so breathless moments when you regret
those with whom you have nothing useful to know
One, one only know that

only important these days, which still do not know
Important are those few moments, those which are waiting
important these days are just not yet Important
know there are a few of those moments, those which are waiting








A well-known someone who had a house and yard
suddenly lost his sense and fell into bad circles
Though fortune vanished, he not rolled
Explaining he could at the very time that

only important these days, which still do not know
Important are those few moments, those on the waiting
important that only those days that do not yet know
Important are those few moments, those which are waiting







How can I tell people that we do not know already?
To gather ideas from those nieposkładanych?
How to Separate a sudden heart from reason?
To hear myself singing among the crowd?








How to identify people who already do not know?
To gather ideas from those nieposkładanych?
How to find a sudden joy and hope? Answers
search, time is so much ...




only important these days, which do not yet know
Important are those few moments, those on the waiting
important that only those days that do not yet know
Important are those few moments, those for which wait



And the whole world covered himself with white and a goose feather, duvet marvelous. Such warmth and silver-safe! I like
slowed down ... slowly to the rhythm of the falling snowflakes. I had become some different, more beautiful ... With these nobly dressed in white like the most beautiful young lady, trees, and that the overwhelming whiteness.
And the peace and the silence around! As in a fairy tale. And only the Snow Queen, which a touch of your hand It could enchant everything, speeding in his horse-drawn sled of silver white, missing!
Yesterday, when the sludge flakes of snow took on the appearance of silver stars. Stars of Heaven! Stars, after which you only ... reach for his hand ... speaking quietly wish i. .. NOW!
silver-white stars are also ... GIFT for us ... from the world ... for this New Year!


... Three hundred sixty-five days ... in which our dreams true!!

In New, 2011 Year
I wish you all the three hundred sixty

five wonderful, full of joy and warmth
days.

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In this Christmas time ...

Christmas ... What are the holidays ...? What really are? So much is written about them already ... and still like ... too little. And if none of these words was not able to pay the whole of their uniqueness?! Because if you can not at all extraordinary about to describe in words!?
Christmas ... striping is still many years in our faces surprise, surprise, with this ... already, that only after all ... November ... the autumn ... with the time clock beats so fast ... too fast ... so hard to keep up with ...! A One and so do you not doing this ... coming as every year ... at usual time ... so punctual ... with a stopwatch in his hand ... knocking on our door quietly and relentlessly reminding that this ... NOW!
What are the Holy? And if you can define them? You can like everything. I acc. definition of Christmas is the celebration of Christmas. It is a liturgical feast is constantly accruing on December 25 by. Gregorian calendar, preceded by a three-week waiting period called Advent. This Christmas traditions and symbols, such as wafer, nativity scene, Christmas tree, carols ...
So much for a definition ... But what are the holidays ... really? Is
feast only on the snow-white tablecloth wafer ... Smell of Christmas trees ... sound of carols ... how will the Polish ... Is it tastes and smells remembered from childhood ... And food, which you can not miss the Christmas table ... ? Is it ... free space for a late guy ...?
Or maybe ... This inscrutable and inexplicable wave of emotions flooding our hearts warm ...? Is the joy of a child ... when he sees the first star in the sky ... and family gathered at the Christmas table ...?
And one thing is certain ... This time the magical, unique, unique.
Christmas ... It always stuck in the heart of the fragrances and flavors remembered from childhood. Only, which stores the in the heart as the most expensive talisman. And who, every year at the same time, as soon as August closes his eyes, they return ... Again and again, not to leave you!
Christmas ... This fragrant tree forest, with its white angel cut out of paper at the kitchen table in the winter, long nights, with glued so clumsy childish hand angelic your hair ... Such a simple and ordinary ... In August put a whole whose heart ... And which we can not forget. It's a gingerbread heart ... This walnut wrapped in gold paper on the candy ... This cone brought straight from the forest ... This wydziergana crochet a star from the remnants of the old grandmother's lace ... It's a long string of thin colored paper, so laboriously dressed in winter evenings ... This gold-plated heart ..., which with the later anointing in this one, the only evening zawieszalo August on a green tree ... It's light candles in the shape, replace later, fearing the fire, the real.
And all the wonders done for a long time before the holidays, how jealously to hold in August after a shoe in a box, until Christmas Eve, and then ... until the next i. .. again to the next ... as the most expensive gems, of which there can be a way surely forget!?
Christmas ... This long, feverish preparations, starting as early as December .... This whole list of errands and things to do, we have stored on the calendar long before their arrival.
Christmas ... the smell of chopped almonds and vanilla ... It closed for a long bath ... I lived in it ... Mr. Karp, as he called it. Mr. Karp whole in silver scales, fins on the sides of tumbling for narrow tubs and water rozchlapujacy the blue-and-white tiled bathroom and looking at his astonished the world, rybimi, eyes. And we are impatient voice: finally kill the fish, let it not fly! And the voice of his father and let him live a little more! And my timid in defending Mr. Carp: a can to it so ... release into the river? And we have a serious face ... the feast without the desecration of carp, surely! Desecration? I did not understand so to the end meaning of the word, however, felt subconsciously, it must be something terrible, and the Holy ... it must be ... Something really important.
Christmas ... This is how will the vicissitudes of fate .... and each of them is another, separate card recorded history in our lives, our own, unique and unrepeatable.
Christmas ...? It's someone's face ... someone's eyes ... engraved in the heart as a monument of stone ...
Christmas .... This ... small white-gray, with odgryzionym and so funny falling to one side ... uszkiem dog, who sat with us a Christmas Eve dinner to the table ... And our joy, and his huge, painting in the eyes of terror, that maybe ... it's just so ... for a while ... and from then again when it runs out this Christmas time ... time of good deeds ... August will send him there, whence came ...!? Because surely time for the animal charity it can not last forever! And that's a great joy that ... But it really ... and the time of good deeds does not have to surely never end!
Christmas ... a whole range of feelings ... and those who are joyful and the sad and how will those painful. That joy pulsating in the air, the baby laugh ... when the nose to the cold glass przylepionym lookout for the one and only star, giving rise to Why did you ... Why have the extraordinary?! And this cry of joy ... that he is ... and that just appeared! And the great untold joy and a sudden, indescribable desire ... hug to the heart ... the whole world!
Christmas ... Images and events are buried there somewhere in the recesses of the soul, and each of them could be a separate chapter of our lives .... so inextricably intertwined with the next.
Christmas ... This ... detained under the eyelids, picture ... a row of brick houses with white windows, so equal and the same as anywhere else in the world! It is a time when among the brick walls and empty streets, the word "Christmas" ceased to have any meaning. And stopped beneath the eyelids and tears swelled swelled with every minute and hour ... And when, in December's frosty night, rickety car buried under snow, the highway was going ... Just on and on ...! And it's a huge sense of relief at the sight of friends homes and full of hustle and bustle 's Christmas streets. And tears of emotion at the sight of ... snow-white tablecloth on the wafer ... smell of chopped almonds mixed with vanilla ... carols sound ... this very Polish. That smell ... so touching ... a unique and unrepeatable. And when the word "Christmas" again nabralo significance.
And a picture of other world ... other streets and houses, where instead of a Christmas tree in the gray - white tablecloth among glazed gingerbread, red steel, Nicolaus of pekatym abdomen and tones in his hand, which jumped touch of a button like in a trance, singing "Jingle Bell" and laughing loudly at the same time, pobrzekiwal tones, as if to drown out everything that is important. And my surprise ... with, and so too can i. .. with it the holy.
Christmas ... It is engraved in the heart of the image of ... Then how strange and alien boy who appeared so unexpectedly in this Christmas time ... as if only waiting for this ...!? And then when I was thinking that maybe ... Little Prince, is not some spirit exiled after it ... to convey some sort of extraordinary to me the secrets ... by opening my eyes and heart ...!? And I use the word feast, had a new, as yet unknown to me SIGNIFICANCE !?
Christmas ... What really are?
Is this picture ... This December, clear day, when the sludge by the snow-covered forest to the snow-buried hut of Helena and Wladyslaw ... holding my breath, as usual, at the sight of her extraordinary beauty ... And while paving the way among the heaps of garbage came to the kitchen and stood breathless before ... white grandma's cupboard with glass panes and those funny minor drawers ... to the bottom of the dig ... already yellowed, but still the footsteps of former White extraordinary ... Christmas candles with metal buckles and metal lichtarzykami in the shape of spruce twigs ... How can uniquely beautiful! And when I saw a picture under my eyelids ... Helena ii Wladyslaw when the Christmas Eve put them on christmas, przyniesionym from the nearby forest, which is so fragrant ... like no other, the tree ... I like the line up beside him with his hands clasped on his knees ... and see the warm candlelight, warming himself in their splendor. I felt the smell of that tree, so intense, like never before ... and warmth of candles gently illuminating their faces.
candles were the skuwajacego plasters and doing general order in the hut Mr. Henia ... wywalone and burned. I did not understand Mr. Henryk my reproach and sorrow for this disgusting rubbish, as I called them, became angry at the end saying, Lord, surely buy a new, enjoy it ... burned, the devil you the entire dump! Malo is a junk crashing down in the woods! Go and see the same!
I went. I went to the forest as soon as the snows melted and revealed all the powywalane human abominations and filth. I sludge through the forest ... with lowered head and clenched his mouth, ashamed ... look in his face!
Forest and his entire wealth ... is also Holy. Forest, who endows us with fragrant pines, which then with the anointing set in the corner ... frying mushrooms for Christmas Eve dinner and then enjoying the smell and taste. I get it ... ot, so ... just ... a gift for us ... People. The forest is
Chojna and patient ... and waits, hoping that the time of charity for HIM ... forest ... maybe one day will come ... in a circle, next feast!
Forest and its inhabitants or animals ... Those that live in freedom ... is also the feast. And although I have always thought that only Birds really are free ... And those that live in shelters, which should be ... actually good, even very good, because they are surely under the care of ... MAN. And the circus ... lest people have interest ... and horses ... and these short, very short chain in a hurry anyhow booths shacks ... Animals, for whom it does share many different holidays such as the Great - Maly. And so to the end though it is difficult to say who is this big, and who this little ... And if you Mali - a CI with a big heart ...?
Christmas ... This is a time of charity for the people ... for animals ... time when the tide of kindness so suddenly flooded our hearts. And when normality is a holiday.
Christmas ... This one's loneliness and ... someone's hope ... and our empty space at Christmas table ...
Christmas ... is ...?
And so much that you can still write ... and say ... And then there are none of the words will not give up what they are ... really. And all of this and so will ... though not enough.

And all that great and I wish this little joyful, such
opening eyes and hearts
world and send a Christmas angel.

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After-repair time ...

After-repair time ... illness began, which came suddenly, and who lurked in a long time, there somewhere in the recesses, as if they wanted to cool one's heels just the right moment to attack. I attacked ... erecting a stop sign. A long-forgotten word ENOUGH ... nabralo again irrelevant. And helpless as a child, confined to a bed, with some attacks of fever and cough, otherworldly ... brought to its knees ... I could not already do, and everything suddenly ceased to have any meaning. So many, so many words, so many conversations ... and everything ... such little importance. And staring at the clock beside the bed ... countdown, as if nothing existed outside of it is not! And can there really?!
Tick tock tick tock ...
time clock beats ... measuring the seconds, minutes, hours, days, years ... Years inches, which included a human life. So many things to do ... so many urgent matters ... And suddenly it all in one moment ... becomes so few important ... and a house .... and agent B ... and the angel of M. .. and all the rest. Clock time is relentless and does not donate even one minute! And I thought that is given me to all eternity, I thought that I was Master of the Universe .... And I have only YOU. And I have my time.
Tick tock tick tock ... Time Clock speaks so patiently, as the unruly child ... Explains the hundredth time, th ...! And it gives you another chance! Yes, yes ... I know! Already know.! Go away! ... I begged, with tears in his eyes ... ... enough already! Not yet, not yet time to ... I hear the cold voice of my Mistress ... who came uninvited, as usual, and hands that ... abruptly hung my fate. Not yet time ... and a new attack of fever and cough can know about yourself. Knocks on knees, as if to pull me souls!
Tick tock tick tock ...
I can only deduct. I feel so miserable ... shrinkage and becomes ... pollen ... Spins there somewhere in the universe with a thousand other pollen ... to then fall to the ground and cease to exist. The only one, is a priceless moment pylkowi.
I am now a humble and submissive, not like one day. Once I treated disease with neglect, and now I know what comes after. I know I always have something hidden up his sleeve ... and that something always surprises me, and that actually ... I should be grateful. It acquires with time, nothing is given right away, it's time for everything.
Tick tock tick tock ...
And when finally gone ... My Mistress ... And where was enough ... and I could get up ... and again look at the world through the eyes of a child ... and moved as if I was from Chinese porcelain, fearing that the bigger movement scatters into a thousand tiny pieces. And if I could brew tea ... doing this ritual ... savoring its taste and smell. And when afterwards with a cup of tea in hand, in the chair, I could look at snowflakes through the window, feeling the joy of a child and wondering ... of it is already winter ... of december .... and with the holidays soon.
Tick tock tick tock ....
Snowflakes swirls outside the window so gently, so gently ... Linger on them ... And I could just sit and watch for hours, thinking about the miracle of nature. And as for not looking, then I think that they surely did not represent the shape of stars, as I always seemed, rather reminiscent of swans down ... Someone like there on top of a blanket of Downy trzepal ... pen and white swans lazily fall on the earth! Being a child tried to hail them in the bag, wishing to have stars from the sky ... and every breath I ran into the house and I watched in disappointment ... water at the bottom of the bag. White feathers behind the window are getting bigger and lazily fly first, and then spins faster and faster, falling on the window sill and arranged in a blanket of Downy. Stared at them, zapomninajac, the last almost just ran.
Tick tock tick tock ... What
silence. What is peace ... And the whiteness of the window. Biel is calm. I like winter, and most of November and december ... These two dark months have something magical in itself, as if some sort of concealed secrets!? I like to light a candle and then sit staring at her hot flame ... White fluffy duvet
enveloped the world, who had become at once some more beautiful. I pozakrywal all these imperfections and the filth of this world. And I've got time, I have time for what is important, because it does not matter what you do not already have ... laughed my time in the face! Swans pen behind the window began to grow, but still some were lazy. I remember how as a child, I liked them and look at the patterns on the glass, which he painted Jack Frost, as his mother said. They were like works of art. Or icicles ... which with such relish August lizalo? Or when the flakes of snow laughing lapalismy who nalapie more! And when szalelismy sledding, and then from zarumienionymi from frost and joy cheeks utytlani snow we returned to a warm home to warm up the stove and hear the stories of the next winter. Now one no longer hears the stories of winter ... and who would be there telling the? Waste of time. Winter gave so much fun! Can now also gives ... Or has it become a curse, which most wymazaloby August from the calendar once and for all! And only children always enjoy the winter. Because children are something wonderful.
Tick tock tick tock ... Already
south I think, looking at the sky. Actually, I do not care hours. Surely I have the time. I have the time to do what's important, say the voice. Time should be measured out sunrises and sunsets ... Yes, people have been doing the past and it was good. In the city it was impossible in this constant race ... at work ... The paper ... I thought about my work that nothing, nothing ... types of harvesting money I can not ... stepiajac soul and mind. And it really ... what I am doing it correctly?! Nothing!
Tick tock tick tock. Time clock again reminded about yourself.
I got up and walked to his desk, opened the smallest of the drawers and took out a fountain pen ... Turned them in your hand for a moment, as if seeing it for the first time ... When was the last time I wrote it, thought a moment. Before you for months ... because I did not have time. Because I did not have time to do what I like. Tick \u200b\u200btock tick tock ... Reached for a piece of paper and I wrote what I felt, I wrote saying the work, which you did before ... NOTHING! I felt like an invisible weight are any ... I suddenly falls from the heart. I felt joy. I looked with affection on the pen, already knowing what I do.
Tick tock tick tock ... Once
written in August just a pen. I remember as a permanent class of rows of wooden benches with the green sloping top and bench seats, forming a single unit, how beautiful! And in the middle of the countertop was a place on the inkstand. The glass inkwell, which you filled in blue ink. All we wrote with a pen, it was just ordinary plastic or wooden penholder, to which you put on a nib in August, which dipped in blue ink wyczarowywala letters. Government evenly wykaligrafowanych letters with round brzuszkach. A veritable masterpiece! And the lady she said that the pen is used for making character and the handwriting is known by man.
we had to struggle so much that the letters were equal, and not to splash ink notebook ... because one could get their hands from you. And then the letters przykladalo pink or white "liniuszek", that is such a tissue and enjoy! The Government of equal letters, drained by the tissue could be seen on paper. But pride! And it did not matter, the cells were splashed ink ... mom and she could scold ... 'What was important when the bursting pride! Then put an the pen to a wooden pencil case with several compartments-a pen, a pencil, the eraser mouse ... so was his name, because she had drawn on top of a mouse ... and on the nib. As in "Plastusiowym my diary" my favorite book. Everything had its place. Everything had its order. I love the feathers and the letters remained to this day.
Tick tock tick tock ...
I like today I remember that summer day when the first time, Helen ran to the house and Wladyslaw ... who with time became my own, and who really remain THEIR ... and when I went through all the rooms one by one ... stopping at last and with great wygrzebujac garbage on the floor ... This one's the only thing ... written list of their hand. And how enchanted I looked at the yellowed sheet of paper, stored in a row rowniutkich letters, written in blue ink faded .... these roztkliwiajacymi any mistakes, relevant only older people, which rozczulily me so much!
pens. Are there really everlasting?
And now? Now, are colored pens, which can be discarded when the sign out and buy new ones. I have already! It's very convenient. Only with this convenience, I do not use. I can not nohow they write. He writes only with a pen or pencil and eraser wipe Mouse. Only the official, as if some sort of premeditation, he writes with a pen, enjoying the soul of the resulting gobbledygook. I have loads of pencils and erasers. I have two handles. One dark-red, the "daily". And the second silver of the "sacred." I'm dreaming still black, with gold nib and two narrow gold stripes at the bottom of nuts ... I know what has to be ... I have them under my eyelids when I close my eyes ... Swans
pen behind the window took on a colossal scale and now are flying very slowly. On my window sill formed wonderful white, soft duvet. What silence. What peace.
Tick tock tick tock ...
took out your journal, to whom I looked not long ago ... because I do not ... No! These words no longer will use. Plotted them out of my life! I have time. I opened. Last Post somewhere in November. Feee ... rude! I took pen in hand and listening to the gentle murmur of the nib on a white paper ... Shur ... Shur ... Shur ... I wrote:
December 7 ... Sitting in an armchair. Not doing anything special, except that ... drinking tea ... I look at snowflakes through the window ... I think a little ... some said ... i. .. I have time.