My Angel Guardian

 sat on the sun terrace that my father had designed so lovingly. It was surrounded by flowers. Each of them was carefully selected by him and looked after and cared for like a child. So it was no wonder that they bloomed in the most beautiful colors, as if to thank you. They produced so many flowers - it was almost as if they were participating in a secret competition - only nobody could win because my father loved them all. He really loved them and devoted all his precious free time to them. And that was exactly the problem. Actually, he should love me and his daughter and give me all his precious free time. But this was not the case. Sad but true. Still, I had to smile at my funny performance.

I remember all too well how my mother and I stood at our entrance last spring, eyes wide and mouths open, unable to speak. We had only been to Aunt Sophie's for a weekend… My father had conjured up a kind of hotel driveway out of our small front yard !!! My enthusiasm was limited. I was almost jealous of these greens because they were the ones who got to spend a nice weekend with my father. I, on the other hand, had to listen to my aunt's never-ending chatter. There was so much love in his work that I almost shuddered.

Not only was there a paved path leading to the garage, there was also a branching path that led right to our front door and back down on the other side.

At the edge of the driveway there were perfectly cut bonsai trees and boasted of beauty and face.

"And isn't it wonderful?" - he half yelled at us. Well, "crazy" would have been better, I thought to myself and quickly disappeared into the house. I couldn't take any more of this madness. Especially since my father's passion for his hobby made me really sad.

Basically, I liked it because it was so cheesy that it almost hurt. And because these plants couldn't help my parents treating me almost like a stepchild. Or rather, they did nothing. Still, they were my parents and I loved them. Even if in my own way.

But I didn't want to spoil my good mood - until recently. If I had learned something in the meantime, it was that there was no point in being sad, angry, or anything else. It didn't change the fact that my parents were emotionally crippled.

I had learned to keep myself busy and, above all, to amuse myself. At that point I was really just great. Perhaps it was because I was naturally a happy person. Luckily. Otherwise I would be at least depressed, if not suicidal, with a high probability.

I hated pessimists. These were mostly the people who were actually doing too well. Quasi pessimistic out of boredom.

My parents raised me to see the positive in everything, which is not to say that it was easy. They did so and I followed suit. That's what I liked about them.

Positive thinking was much more like a magic trick that you had to practice for years to get right, but once you did it you never forgot. You just had to be careful not to lie to yourself, that you just wanted to see something positive.

I have to admit that sometimes I just failed. As also when one is surrounded by indifference. You involuntarily create your own world. A bubble full of lies.

It's easier to lie to yourself than to let someone else do it. It's an instinctive protective mechanism, I'd say.

I was particularly happy to build it into my parents' home - that's where the need for protection was greatest. Not that they were lying to me - it was more like the feeling that they were - firstly, hardly there for me, because they worked all the time, and secondly, when they had time, it was usually not dedicated to me.

My father then pursued his great passion in the garden or the two of them spent time together.