I felt as the blood was rushing fast in my veins that left me shaking, but I did it this time, my legs didn't betray me like those other times, I ran for the postman, he was an old man, wrinkles cover his face but his smile was always crossing his face as the sun crosses the clouds on fire, He gave me the letter.

"thank you Mr.Sharley" I said, and he gave me a wink in return and wished a good day for me.

even when he was out of my site, my body didn't seem to obey me. Do you think I’ll ever get better at this? That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever I receive a letter from you?

I didn't let myself open the letter near any existent person, so I escaped away to the place when I can be alone, running with all my feet can manage, crossing the forest not realizing that it is getting darker and colder, sometimes there was nothing but trees, and then there would suddenly be a breathtaking glimpse of the  Ocean, reaching to the horizon, dark gray under the clouds. I stopped because my lungs can't be filled with any Extra oxygen and because I reached the top of the cliffs that bordered the beach here. I forgot about the pain I was feeling in my legs and lungs once I saw the view that seemed to stretch on forever, this was my kingdom of isolation. it is already dark, Tonight the sky was utterly black, the thick clouds that letting any chance for the moon to appear and yet the wind that blows faster and harder. it didn't matter for me because I know that this place will never fail amazing me with its beauty, promising me that it won't change until you come and see that beauty by yourself.

I took the flashlight from my pocked that my mother always insist to take it with me. and for glimpse I thought about her and that she might be so worried about me, but it didn't matter, I'm in no position to think of any one but you, any thing but your letter, I opened it, reading your words, moving from one to another like a butterfly looking for pollen, like a ballet girl choosing her steps Smoothly to give the best performance ever.

it is something I have always enjoyed doing, reading your words, like if it was the only way destiny chose for me so I got to know you, to feel that you really exist.

you started your letter with a quote for Aristotle Onassis "It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light."  be well and focus on the light inside you.
why would he say this ? I reread those lines dozens of time before I decided to continue reading, the wind is howling like this swirling storm, it was "I wanted to be rich, but simple all what I got" the last line I read before the winds decide that it is enough for me reading and taking the letter from my hand, It was like someone had died- like I had died. Because it had been more than just losing the truest of true thing, as if that were not enough to kill anyone. It was also losing a whole future, a whole family- the whole life that I'd chosen, 

I felt pinned down by the pressure of the storm. Everything swirled around me, The air had a faint electric charge—I could feel the static in my hair. I stared in disbelief as the letter flying in the sky begging me to reach and bring it back to its place, to my shaky hands that I can't feel them now. I was running toward the letter, not seeing a thing, everything stopped, the latter was the center of the world, and I must have it back, I stepped out to the edge, keeping my eyes on the letter in front of me, fading away, getting further and further.

 

photo by lucie drlikova

AND THIS HAPPENED

 I screamed as I dropped through the open air like a meteor. The wind resisted, trying vainly to fight the unconquerable gravity, pushing against me and twirling me in spirals like a rocket crashing to the earth.

it is when I realized I was leaping into space. felling for what seemed like an eternity to me, finally sliced  through the surface of the water, cutting smoothly into the dark gray waves below.

That was when the current caught me.

It felt like the waves were fighting over me, jerking me back and forth between them as if determined to share by pulling me into halves. black angry water in every direction; there was no brightness to direct me upward.

Gravity was all-powerful when it competed with the air, it is when I didn't want to fight anymore. And it wasn't the light-headedness, or the cold, or the failure of my arms as the muscles gave out in exhaustion, that made me content to stay where I was.

 it was the letter, the busy place which has suddenly gone calm and I am on the no set to leave it. how can I ? it's peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe, no need to pray and no need to speak. just me and the letter that suddenly got scattered in pieces shining like stars and lighting me up like Venus. it is when I realized this, YOUR WORDS ARE THE LIGHT I NEED TO FOCUS ON.

 ( I know where it exists, hope you like yours)

To be continued 

لقد صرح في وقت مضى الكاتب الأمريكي جون قرين كالتالي:"في بعض الأحيان، عندما تقرأ كتابا ويملأك بحماس غريب،  لتصبح مقتنعا بأن العالم المحطم لن يصلح مرة أخرى حتى يقوم سكان المعمورة بقراءة هذا الكتاب.". فرغم أنانيتي التي اشعر بها حاليا في إخفاء هذا الكتاب وكأنه شيء مقدس أخاف عليه من الانتقادات من نفوس لا يعرف الرضا و الأمل طريقا لها. لدي تلك الرغبة الجامحة في اقتراحه على مل شخص في حياتي. لأني متأكدة انه سيشكل ككتابات حنان لاشين السابقة في النفوس تأثيرا و ستدغدغك حتى و ان أنكرت ذلك و ما امهرها أم البنين في فهم الروح.

الهالة المقدسة, كتاب سيأسرك منذ اللحظة الأولى التي تنظر إلى الغلاف و تتساءل عن الهالة المقدسة, انها شيء جميل, هذا ما حدثت به نفسي لقناعتي أن أم البنين حنان لاشين ستأخذني عبر كتاباتها إلى ركن وردي غير السائد عند الناس في كونه عالم خاص فقط بالإناث و طلاء الأظافر و الأميرات, انه عالم أين  تتوقف لوهلة من افتراس جملها التي أتعطش لها و تقول "واو إن هذا العالم رائع" رغبتي في القفز من سطر إلى أخر من شدة حماسي حتى أني لم أضع الكتاب حتى أكملته.