Bit Morbid.

I don't know how to put this and not sound macabre.

But I've been pondering about this for a few minutes, and I can't shake it.

22 hours from now, it will have been exactly 22 years since I almost died, and killed mum along with me by tearing that placenta, and having her bleeding all over the place.

It's odd to think of that near death experience, remembering nothing of it myself.

Every year around this time I'll get told the same horror stories.
It was a matter of minutes between life and death. For the both of us. Literally.

Yet it wasn't so bad that mum got so traumatised she never had children after me.

For my siblings, that's very lucky. Maybe for me, too. A bit. I'd've been spoiled, being a one-sy.

Doctors warned my parents about a possibly affected intelligence and immunity.

"Luckily", they were only correct with the latter.

To end it on a cheerful tone, it's mother's day, officially. (Again. We already celebrated the Egyptian one on the 21st of March)

So here's a genuine: I love you, mum. To no end.

xxx

The Gypsy.