DAME PLUME ^_***

I’d like to say a few words about Plume. Plume is her nickname as she has one of the prettiest jobs a woman can dream of: she is a story teller, Plume writes stories and books for kids.

She is also my dearest French girlfriend since the age of 15; we went to the same high school for three years and then life separated us to reunite us thirty years later. And you know what? Those thirty years were like yesterday.

We shared the same room during a week-end in Strasbourg two years ago, with other school mates, as a teen revival, and we had lots of fun.

Plume is a tall, cute brunette with chocolate eyes, a wide smile and a sunny French accent.

I am not going to disclose any secret nor personal stuff about her life, as she is known as a writer, if I tell you that she is married to a gorgeous tall guy with a piece of sky in his eyes, that they have three gorgeous kids and a cozy colorful house, in the south of France, where they live.

I have never met such a positive and optimistic, funny, cheerful and delicious woman in my whole life; Plume is like a real fairy tale character.

She’s a sorcerer, an enchantress and she bewitches everybody.

Last October during a little nap, by the fireplace, she had a bad dream. An ugly neglected witch from one of her stories, touched her generous chest and Plume was diagnosed a breast cancer… but… Plume has a fairy godmother who sent immediately the best magicians (doctors in our world) to save and protect her.

They did such a great job and she’s going to have a brilliant surgery mid June. Those magicians are so good and so optimistic that Plume has already planned some nice Greek holidays in August to meet Ulysses and the Cyclops.

She knows she can count on me. She knows she’s in my heart. We both know that she still has loads of stories to tell and that like in fairy tales she’s going to live with her Charming Prince happily for ever after.

On the surgery day, all her tale characters are going to sit in her room with her family, and watch on the “sleeping beauty” till she will open her chocolate eyes again and smile with those cinnamon lips of hers.

I just want to tell her that her laptop is longing to feel her soft fingers on the keyboard again, and that all the French kids are waiting for her to come back with more stories.

I know she’s not going to disappoint them ^_***.