After my sixth birthday an event has occured, which radically changed my life - my sister was born. Before her birth my little self-ego reluctantly seemed to me as the center of the universe. It seemed to me that my mother, our nanny and our small compacted flat, all of it was designed exclusively for myself. Indeed, I was not thinking of it in words, but such was my perception of the world. In general my mom was everything. I could not imagine my life without her. I also instinctively demanded her presence and her love just like I need air, water and sleep. And this love and tenderness that my mother gave me was enough, since there was not any other love or tenderness that I knew of. However, despite the fact that my mother loved me, during that period when I was born her life was yet filled too much with personal drama between my father and herself, as she was still young, therefore I took the secondary place in her soul. My sister, on the other hand, perhaps due to her sensitivity and anxiety for our mother's life, immediately ranked first in the mother's heart. My mother came to love her so passionately that she couldn't have enough of her. And so, my sensitive heart of a child made me realize what a real love of a mother is like, and I understood that I don't have such love and that I should be happy with the "last piece of pie" that I get. I was neither insulted nor punished, I was only pushed back. I always felt like an outsider - there was no place for me in my mother's embraces, since my sister always occupied them. I always heard the words such as: "You're big, let me win, give me this, move over, get up...".
One way or another, just like everyone else I had to experience sorrowful moments in life such as losing the close ones, giving up on precious feelings, but I will never forget those first lessons of sorrow, grief and loneliness that my seven-year old heart experienced.