She had been blessed with natural beauty.

He studied her sun-kissed face.

There was not even the slightest hint of makeup.

Yet, he felt that she was more beautiful than any girl that had ever been this close to him.

“Hatchi” she sneezed.

“Sorry”, she muttered while trying to regain her original position.

He smiled, she had a voice clear as a river at its source.

“Now class, Jessica has just changed her position, I am curious to see how well you adapt to this change”

He frowned, he had expected a different name.

Jessica continued looking out of the window as if she was observing something beautiful and not the rush hour traffic jam.

“Tom, now that’s interesting!”

Madame Mauve made him jump.

“What is it?”

“Jessica’s face is almost drawn to a photographic precision”

Jessica tried to suppress a giggle and turned scarlet in a flash second.

“Wait until the colour drains from her face, else you will not be happy with the outcome” Madame Mauve advised the class.

“So where was I? Yes. So you left out her scar.”

“What scar?” Tom looked at his drawing and Jessica, puzzled, as he could not see her scar.

Jessica forgot not to move, her hand following the long scar on her face.

“And then Tom, she’s not exactly wearing wings! This is a portrait class and today we are focusing on drawing a photo-like as possible! And wings just don’t fit the picture!”

Tom, looked down at the picture he had drawn.

“What’s going on here? I cannot hear a single pencil!”

Quickly the other students tried to pretend to be working on their portraits, but their smirks gave them away.

They had seen the scar, you had to be blind to miss it.

And Jessica? She was longing for all of these people to go home, so she could finally speak to Tom.

He was the first person that she knew off to have seen her wings.


A Fresh Start

So, I turned 30 on Monday (20th of August). I have come to the end of a very important decade of my life.

4 out of my 5 years of higher education happened during this time, I have been together with S. for almost 9 years, I started to work, I gave birth to two lovely kids who are now 4 and a half and almost 18 months old, I lost my mother to cancer. This seems like quite an important decade to me.

Now, I am not going to cry about my lost youth. Guess what? On my birthday I felt as if I was 24 again, just with a lot fewer worries. Why 24 you might ask? Well, it was the last birthday before pregnancies/kids. When I turned 25 I was going through horrible morning sickness… And all my birthdays since spent with kids. On Monday, my dad agreed to babysit and S. went on a lunch date that stretched quite a bit into the afternoon.

Instead of crying about my youth, I see this as an opportunity, I have a fresh new decade in front of me. Lately, I have been thinking about a lot about my future. I don’t see myself teaching German forever (it is lucrative and is working better than ever, my experience, age, education etc must be responsible for some of that), but I am a child of my generation (I am a “millennial”) and feel the urge to do something different, to do something new. I catch myself thinking about what to do now, but I am certain we never actually ask ourselves the right questions, those come from outside of our closest circles.

When I applied for a job earlier this year, I realised that I am now ready for something new, that I am grown up and mature. Just what will I be doing in the future? I don’t know, and I suppose that I will find out in the future. There is just one thing I know, I want to will write more, maybe a book and I will properly revive my blog!

Thank you for reading 😍😘


This post is part of my 30 to 31 challenge. Between my 30th birthday and my 31st, I will try, and give my best to write one post (from the cuff) per week (if I must this will be done on my phone).

If you feel like joining the fun for your 23 to 24 challenge or 51 to 52 or whatever your age is… then go ahead, and if you link back to my post of the week and I’ll do my best to give you a shout out. 

© Solveig Werner 2018. All rights reserved.