April poppy fields forever


Such a beautiful time of the year here in the Balearics. This time of the year will forever remind me of the birth of my son, Pi. I was so deliriously happy and oxytocine-high. Walking through the fields of poppies and wild orchids carrying my little newborn, the warm wind caressing us, our dog running around happily, my Noam with tears of joy in his eyes pretty much constantly. And at the same time, seeing these flowers every passing year makes me so aware of life and death. Yesterday was the 100th birthday of my beloved grandmother. She was for me the personification of strength, life, power and survival. I childishly thought she would never die. But she did, 4 months and 6 days ago. It surprised me, and it made me realize on a bigger scale that we shall all die. As sure as these poppies are blossoming now, as sure it is that they shall very soon all be dead. Only their offspring will live on inside the ground, and blossom, thrive and live again next April. April is a month of beginnings for me, the spring, the season, the birth of my son. The birth of my grandmother, the typical Aries. And any day now, I'm expecting to give birth to my second son. My grandmothers offspring. She died, their seeds were planted through our family line. They are born, they blossom. It's beautiful and sad. I don't want to let go of life, but by giving birth to the next generation, I do. I give my seeds and plant them for my children to blossom from.  

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