Three days before your day, a new girl was born. I dreamt many many times that it would be “she” and it would be on the 22nd… The very last one. As you were the very first. Took your place to make up 13 people in this odd family. Again. 1 per month and 2 in March. I saw your grave to wish you a Happy Birthday. I admired the plaque with your name added. As well as a new cross that I found mystically attractive on this Holy Saturday. Even you gone, I did not wash my sheets that week. As I did not the year before. Proof that catholic superstitions are just stupid. Just peace in this silent field of corpses as I walk on the wet sand of this cemetery. One day after the beginning of spring. Freezing cold compared to the heat of last year. I am not a believer and I probably never will be. You never told me I had to. You did not care anyway. And even at the end of your life, you had to be forced to attend Mass. But now when I think of you, for some obscure reasons, I can’t help to think that wherever you go… I will follow.