Unanswered

* I found someday that my khaki pants were missing. Nothing could explain the disappearance. No strangers were in my house who could have stolen them. I have not left the gym wearing my work-out clothe and forgot them in the locker. I did not use a self-service laundry. Nothing.  I gave up trying to figure out where and why. Years later and in another country where I was living, the exact same scenario repeated. Khaki pants were missing from my house. And again no explanation. This might seem funny, but it is true.

* Family1, whom I completely trust, told me family2 stole his money and submitted the evidence. It seemed credible, but I could not believe f2 with his integrity could do it. I said to myself there must have been a margin of error somewhere. F1 never told anybody else in order to keep the family together, and years later he passed away. F2 went in life armed with his usual nice character, kind attitudes, level-headed views and supportive positions. Where does the truth lay? To be totally unaware of a possible hidden and evil aspect of character of someone so close and so kind is something scary.

* The nostalgia to the past kills me. I admit the past might not have been the best of times and I can not deny the beautiful aspects of the present, but why it seems so tender and so sweet? Memories feel like a wind coming from far off and the moment it touches my face with its waves of beauty and longing, I get so overwhelmed that I kneel down. My parents, the family house, the garden, the quiet neighborhood have all gone and will never come back, but here I am on my knees receiving the waves with my eyes closed and both arms extended.