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My brother and I were standing in the kitchen; him preparing dinner, I catching up with things and angling for red wine. "You might want to speak to Nephew about Uncle M." he says all of a sudden. Uncle M is my ex that I left back in February; he loved my nephews and they loved him dearly. And Nephew is very clever and has been asking anybody but me (see? very clever) about Uncle M. My brother has mentioned it before and I have given it some thought; maybe even hoping the memory would fade and the kids would stop asking. But today Nephew had been asked whether he had siblings and he had answered gingerly "I have a sister" (forgetting little new Nephew 3.0 there), and then he had gone on to mention his uncle H, his uncle C and his Uncle M. I looked at my brother for a while before I answered. "Yeah, well; I guess he's old enough". Nephew is 5. After dinner Nephew and I finished off the treasuremap we had been painting, and then went on with all his nigh...
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Tamed

I let him look at me. All of a sudden I felt him there, in the doorway of my little kitchen, felt him looking at me, my skin tingling a bit where his gaze passed over me. I hadn't heard him coming, though I was very aware of him moving around the apartment, very aware of his presence there with me. Aware of him moving around, looking at things, taking in my home with all of his senses. I had been inexplicably nervous about him coming here, had cleaned up very thoroughly and tried to see my home as he would see it. Inexplicably; because I am not one to be fazed easily. And now he was standing there in the doorway of my kitchen looking at me. And I let him look without acknowledging his presence there; leaning casually against the doorway. Much to my surprise I let him look at me working, grinding coffeebeans or whatever I was doing. Refusing to turn my head, meet his eyes and break the moment, when I suddenly got the impression that he knew, that *I knew* he was looking at me...
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Two years ago

I was very much in love. And the Valentines Day of two years ago, was the last one I spent as part of a couple. I looked for a blog-post of mine from that day, but it wasn't there. I did find a Love Letter from February 19th, addressed to the guy I was in love with, and initially, it surprised me. Not that I wrote the love letter, but that I *didn't* write about the Valentines Day he gave to me. Thinking about it now, I know perfectly well why I didn't write about it. Bear with me; here goes. He flew to Italy from Denmark, carrying a hundred red roses and a bottle of champagne. He had booked a table in one of the fanciest restaurants of Florence and had the champagne poured and the roses brought, just as we sat down at our table. There was also musicians and everybody's eyes were on us, and the lucky girl that received such lavish attention from her man. An American couple was taking our picture (he exchanged emails with them so that they might send the pictures)...
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