Sitting on the edge of her bed, she scans the sky in silence. The majestic poplars greet one by one in a delicate movement back and forth a few leaves litter the scorched asphalt, cons below. The room is bright on the first day of autumn, illuminating the serene face, carved from life and light of discretion, this old woman, standing on the corner of her bed in a filmy absence. Time around it's going over, while to weave around his soul his childhood memories. Dad is there, swaying on the black rocking chair, holding in his loving arms. The flames dance in the fireplace, moved by the nuances of melancholy Winterreise by Schubert. The house still exudes the sweet smell du coq au vin... Dehors l'air est glacial, le grand tilleul a quitté sa belle parure et retourne en sa sève, en ses racines, puiser la force de résister au froid hivernal. L'herbe, saupoudrée d'une fine pellicule de glace, est devenue bien pâle, la lumière même semble dénuée de vie. Il suffit alors de tourner les yeux vers les bougeoirs dégoulinant de cire et diffusant un aura doré, pour réchauffer son cœur. Maman, emmitouflée dans son pull bleu marine, lit en gratouillant par moments de ses doigts graciles la tête du chat avide de caresses. L'instant est d'une douceur enivrante... La vieille dame a enfoui ses mains dans une longue écharpe rose passé, comme pour guard the autumn wind that shakes the trees behind the window. It outlines a slight smile. I'm here, sitting beside her, watching her eyes crystalline, listening to her breath, but she does not see me. She returned it to its roots, find the strength to resist the time draws its furrows on her hands, it is returned to his childhood dreams, find the strength not to turn into shrinking ...
