Tuesday

15/09/2025

I brought my mom to live with me. For good.
No big plans, no long discussions—just one day, with one small bag. In it were a pair of tights, slippers with the words “World’s Best Grandma” (a gift from my kids), a cozy robe, a nightgown, and, oddly enough, a pillowcase.

She packed it herself.

Now, for the past three weeks, I’ve had a little “girl” of about four years old living in my house. Thin, with a little white bun of hair, shuffling in cotton tights that bunch up at her ankles, walking the hallway in those warm slippers, carefully stepping over invisible obstacles at the doorway. She smiles at the dog in the hallway. She hears invisible people and shares their “news” with me. She’s shy. She sleeps a lot. She nibbles chocolate bars I sneak into her room and sips her tea with both hands—because one of them trembles. She checks her wedding ring over and over, terrified it might slip off her thin finger.

And suddenly, I see her not as “Mom,” but as this fragile, helpless soul. She’s let go. Relaxed. Stopped playing the role of “adult.” And she’s trusted me completely, in every little thing. Her biggest comfort? Knowing I’m home. The way she exhales with relief when I walk in from outside makes me want never to leave for too long.

So here I am again, making soup every day like I used to for my kids, putting out a plate of cookies on the table.

What do I feel? At first—fear. For three years after Dad passed, she insisted on living alone. For the first time in her life, at 80, she was living her way. I understood her. But then this cruel virus came along, and two months of isolation broke her. And now, I just feel tenderness. Love. Compassion for this tiny universe entrusted to me.

I know exactly where this road leads us. I just want her walk down it to be happy—surrounded by her daughter, in warmth and comfort, with homemade pies and meatloaf. That’s all that matters to her now.

Today I have a daughter who’s 83 years old. And I’m grateful God gave me the chance to make her sunset years peaceful—and gave me the chance to live mine without regret.

Mom, thank you for being here.
Please… stay a little longer.

❇️CTTO❇️

15/09/2025

I had a huge crush on a boy at school, but then I moved away and left him a small token, something only we understood. Years later, back in town, I saw his wife in a café. I knew her from photos online. Suddenly, she looked at me, her gaze sharp, and said “You’re the one who left him that bracelet, aren’t you?” My heart stopped.

The bracelet. A simple braided string we’d made together during art class in seventh grade. I’d given it to him the night before my family moved away. It was my silent confession, my way of saying goodbye without words. I nodded slowly. “I… I didn’t think he’d still have it.” She sighed, her expression softening. “He never took it off for years.Family games

\When we started dating, he told me about a girl who once made him believe in kindness, even when life was hard. He said you were the first person who really saw him.” Tears welled in my eyes. I had never known how much that small act had meant. “I didn’t want to interfere with his life,” I said quietly. “I’m just glad he’s happy.”

She reached across the table, her smile warm. “He is. And now I’m glad to finally meet the person who gave him hope when he needed it most.” We sat there, two women connected by the same boy, realizing that sometimes love isn’t about keeping someone — it’s about leaving them better than you found them.

❇️CTTO❇️

08/09/2025

This is me to a T 🙂
=============================================

If you love an overthinker, there are things you need to understand.

Their neediness isn’t weakness, it’s fear. They don’t want to be “too much,” and I promise you, no one is more exhausted by their racing thoughts than they are. They live with a mind that never rests, and they wish they could turn off the noise of “what ifs” and “maybes.” But they can’t.

What most people miss is that there’s beauty in their overthinking. The same thoughts that make them anxious are the same thoughts that make them love harder. They’re careful with hearts, because they know too well what it feels like to have theirs broken.

If you love an overthinker, don’t see them as a burden. See them as someone who cares deeply, sometimes too deeply. Be patient with them. Reassure them. Remind them that you’re not going anywhere.

Because the truth is, behind every overthinking mind is a heart that simply wants to feel safe, loved, and understood. And when they finally do, you’ll realize their love is one of the purest kinds you’ll ever know.

~Tanvir Sourov

08/09/2025

KNOW this.

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
You will break her.
Like the violent shattering of glass as it crashes to the ground.
You will not just break her heart.
You will break her trust.
You will break her spirit.
You will break her joy.
You will break her belief in love.
You will break her sense of self.

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
She will not sleep—not through the night, as she relives the memories over and over at 3 am, seeking answers she will never find.

She will not eat—not by choice, but because she can’t stomach her reality or the thoughts of texts and images that haunt the corners of her mind.
She will not smile—not because there’s nothing to smile for, but because she doesn’t know what these things are anymore.

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
It will teach her to hear “You are beautiful,” as “but not beautiful enough.”
It will teach her to hear “You are brilliant,” as “but not brilliant enough.”
It will teach her to hear “You mean the world to me,” as “but one person is not enough.”
It will teach her to hear “You are the love of my life,” as “but I don’t love you enough.”
It will teach her to hear “You are enough,” as “but you are still not good enough to satisfy me.”

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
She will cry.
She will stand in the kitchen cooking for your children tears streaming silently down her face , disorientated by the constant tormenting images swirling in her mind.
She will share with her friend’s and some will turn their backs on her , too confronted by her grief, abandoning her when she needs them most.
She will get a lump in her throat anytime she thinks of past places that used to be yours until she decides these places are no longer sacred.
She will rage.
She will explode at friends & family for no apparent reason at all. When they are stung by her anger, she will feel deep shame.
She will curse at her reflection as she’s brushing her teeth, and think if only she were prettier, funnier, skinnier-if only she were more, it would have made a difference.
She will throw a picture frame at the wall, and be too dumbfounded to clean the blood off her finger when she cuts it picking up the pieces.
She will scream into the wind by the river, wondering what she did to deserve feeling this way, hoping her words will carry far enough to be heard by someone—anyone—who can tell her.
She will not feel.
She will be turned by shock into the same stone she uses to build walls to keep people out.
She will be numbed in new ways that her hopeful heart had not known to be possible.
And then she will feel everything at once.
She will feel devalued, discarded, disassembled, disillusioned, distraught—she will feel bewildered and betrayed.
She will feel foolish, frenetic, fraught and full of fear.
She will feel hate—toward you, toward them, toward herself.
She will choke on her own confusion as she tries to hold on, yet yearns to let go.

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
She believed in you.
She believed in romance—and that a chivalrous manner meant chivalry in all manners of the heart.
She believed in honesty—and that being honest with your partner first meant being honest with yourself.
She believed in respect—and that a love respected meant not being gaslighted, nor played a fool.
She believed in goodness—and that being good meant working on being good together, even when it was not easy to do.
She believed you would protect her—and that being protected did not mean hiding the truth.
She believed in you—and that believing in you, believing in each other, meant the mutual support of a two-person team through the ups, downs and everything in between.

Before you choose infidelity, know this:
These are all avoidable.
You have a choice.
You can choose to walk away.
You can choose to let her leave, on her own accord.
You can give her a choice.

Ctto

05/09/2025

Been 10 yrs now when that “You have a nice smile” message started a journey… 🙂😍💔🥀

02/09/2025

https://youtu.be/2oRXpqolgV0?si=VXG7APKPExEvprsd

The Best of Keno album now available on Spotify, Apple Music and other major streaming platforms! Spotify: ➡https://open.spotify.com/album/2M4GLCXHorNJ22UQmx...

31/08/2025

28/08/2025

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1G7PQfoN8X/?mibextid=wwXIfr

23/08/2025

This is contrary to what I do. I give credit to my SMEs for whatever recognition I get 😊

23/08/2025

The WORST feeling for a woman is when she tries to have a conversation with a man about his BEHAVIOR that hurts her every day, but instead of listening, he gets ANGRY and turns the situation around on her.
It’s a feeling that cuts deep—a mix of frustration, sadness, and emotional abandonment. She gathers the courage to speak up, not to argue, not to attack, but because she loves him and wants to make things better. She speaks from a place of pain and hope, hoping that maybe this time, he will really hear her, that he will understand the weight she’s been silently carrying.

But instead of leaning in, he raises his defenses. Instead of acknowledging her feelings, he deflects. He gets loud, or cold, or sarcastic. He shifts the blame onto her, twisting her concerns into accusations against her character, her tone, her timing. Suddenly, the conversation becomes about how she brought it up instead of what she brought up. And just like that, her pain gets buried under his anger.

And it’s not just the argument that hurts—it’s the message underneath it all: Your feelings don’t matter. Your pain is inconvenient. Your voice is too much. That moment becomes a silent wound, another scar added to the emotional pile she’s been trying so hard to suppress for the sake of peace. But peace without understanding isn’t peace—it’s silence. It’s pretending. It’s walking on eggshells while slowly losing pieces of herself just to keep things from falling apart.

What’s worse is that after enough of these moments, she starts to question herself. “Maybe I am too sensitive.” “Maybe I should just let it go.” “Maybe it’s not a big deal.” But deep down, she knows it is. She knows what respect, empathy, and love should feel like—and this isn’t it.

When a woman reaches out to address something that hurts her, it’s a gift. It’s her saying, I still care enough to fix this. It’s a chance for connection, healing, and growth. But when that moment is met with anger or blame, it pushes her further away. Not just emotionally—but spiritually. Because nothing is more damaging to a woman’s spirit than constantly being made to feel wrong for wanting to be treated right.

✍️Ctto
🎨credit to the artist via Pinterest

23/08/2025

https://youtu.be/TP1IykMTo6o

Show some love with Subscribe and press (🔔) to join the Notification Squad and stay updated with new uploads.🫰Follow Rewind Vibes: https://www.instagram.co...