I look in the mirror and see a woman.
Yes, with wrinkles, with a slightly tired look after a bad dream, with hands that remember both children's cheeks and heavy bags from the market. But this woman is me. The real me. And I like me. Maybe not always. But honestly.

🍵 A cup of coffee is my ritual of happiness
I'm not in a hurry anymore. In the morning I sit by the window, make myself a cup of coffee with cardamom, wrap myself in my favorite blanket. And listen to the silence. Or the birds. And I think: "God, what happiness it is not to have to run anywhere.

📖 I'm learning to dream again
My daughter said: "Mom, you could start an Instagram blog. You have such wisdom and simplicity!" And I think: why not? I have something to share. Perhaps my words will become a support for someone, just as Maria Matios' books or my mother's calm voice once did for me.

💞 I am not only a mother, a grandmother, a hostess
I am a woman. With feelings, desires, thoughts. And I have the right to laugh, to be a little frivolous, to paint my lips red, and to go on a date, even if I'm 56.

🌷 My life now is not "after" but "now"
And it is filled with: fragrances, smiles, leisurely mornings, honest conversations, light sadness and great hope.

And also with faith in yourself. And finally.