Rrrrrrring - The alarm clock

I move the last boxed from my old house in my home country. And every box I take down from the attick weighs heavier and heavier. On my mood.

Is it not amazing how memories start crossing your mind the minute you cross the border?

As if crossing that borderline to my hometown, is the alarm clock to memories.

Rrrrrrring.

And every step closer to the house, closer to the boxes at the attick...is another rrrrrring.

It makes me sad. The alarm clock for memories.

It irritates me. But I suppose that's what alarm clocks or made for. At least, they also irritate me in the morning.

I drive back in some days..to the new country.

And I hope crossing the border, will ring my alarm.

The soft version.

The one where you wake up on a sunny autumn day.

Looking out the window to a bright blue sky.

Smiling.

Because it all starts...