Et maintenant

I just wanted to say a kind of goodbye, because I don’t really like saying “goodbye”—and I’m amazed to see all these page views—actually, it just made me very happy.
Thank you for that.
Thank you very much !!!

So, I’ll put off my real “goodbye” until later.
Still, as you may know, my country is really going downhill.
Maybe not yet among the rich, but people like me…
My house is turning into a shelter, and here I am, taking in a few young people from France who have been left behind, who come for a night or a few days to regain their strength, sleep in the warm, wash, laugh at silly things, read comic books, and eat with us.
Five years ago, my house became a refuge for stray cats. I didn’t expect it to become a refuge for rejected youth.

And my job is no better. All these kids need me—and people like me—more than ever before. And we have to give them hope for the future. If I don’t believe in it, how can they? After all, I’m the adult.

So, too bad. It’s not very glorious. It’s not epic. It’s not glamorous. But I’ve become a full-time teacher of literature and French for kids who need to learn to believe in themselves. We, the school, are the only ones left to give them that. I think that’s terrible.

There you go. I feel a little sad for all those kids. I do what I can to make their eyes light up.
I tell them some of the stories I’ve written here for you.
In a way, they get more, because I can spend weeks on a story, showing them every detail.
And less, because I don’t have time to tell them everything.

But then Altair… how can I keep him in my heart when, for me, he means distancing myself from them? Think about something else?
I can’t do it.

You have given me several messages.
You are still giving me more.
And I have not lost the confidence that one day, like a fool, I wanted to give you.

And since I am a girl, I tell myself that, in the end, it doesn’t matter: you have all my texts, all my ideas, all my trust. So I can be a “mother” and take care as best I can of these little ones who are growing up in a country that is falling apart, obsessed with its elderly, corrupt to the core and stupid, stupid—eating hay.

See you, my ghost friend et merci pour vos impressionnants passages !