I got two days off so I've come to see my parents in Pärnu. It's just crazy, never ever during my three Newbold years - that is many months away from my family - have I missed my parents so terribly much as I've missed them over the last two weeks. There were moments over these weeks when I had to fight against almost an invincible desire to get on a bus and come home. But now I'm here. And it feels heavenly.

I just had to get a bunch of red roses to my mom on my way home from the bus station.

And now I want to talk about love. I'm glad none of you is here to see how emotional I'm just about to get. Because this is terribly personal.

I have pleaded with God and I've asked Him to take ten years of my life and give them to my mom. And I have meant it. I hope He takes me serisously enough to at least consider this arrangement. I would do it without ever giving it a second thought and without ever mentioning it again.

And one day when I'm old and sick, my wish is that one of my own children would have courage to pray the same kind of prayer for me. It should be possible if I manage to do half as good a job as a mother as my own mom has done. And it's not that I care too much about ten last years of my life, I don't, and it's not that I want to get back what I've freely given away. But I want to keep this love and this spirit in the family. My parents have done an outstanding job, for if there's a kid in this world who is raised in a way that she's willing to pray such a prayer, this kind of love is worth keeping alive and worth keeping in the family. And I know that it's this kind of love that in the end proves to be invincible and immortal. And I want to find a way to pass it on to the next generation.

Love wins.