Childhood
Uploaded by afaus on Aug 14, 2002
- Wake up, Angel. Hurry, you have to go..
- What's up Mum, are we going for a travel?
- Yes -she lied- you have to go with Mr. Gou; –an old friend of the family- we’ll come later.
So I packed and went to Mr Gou’s, where I spent some of the happiest days of my life, it was the childhood dream of an unexpected holiday: I didn’t have to go to school, and Mr. Gou’s grandchildren came to play with me every afternoon. My parents and my brother Luis –the elder, 11- came to visit me every day or two, bringing clothes and toys from home. But Manel, my other brother, didn’t came, so I asked Luis in one of his visits: "Luis, why doesn’t Manel come to visit me?", and he didn't answer.
After a few days, I returned home. There was a lot of people there, but when I searched for Manel, I didn’t found him. Two old and ugly women were talking at home’s hall, and I listened to their conversation. They were talking about some funeral! Then I run, I run to my mother, and asked her: "Is him dead, is Manel dead?"
We lived in an old, art noveau house, with high flats, and a huge hall, one of the biggest rooms of the house. The hall had a big, wide curtain, of a green and rough fabric, that could be used to divide the room in two. I run to it, rolled the whole curtain around my body once and again, and there, completely hidden from the world (or maybe the world completely hidden from my eyes), I cried. I cried as I had never cried before, and as I will never cry again.
He was 9, and I was 6.
When I went back to the school, I walked to the teacher, to explain him why I’ve missed the classes, but he already know it. Everyone already knew it: some of my friends came to me, and told me they were sorry about it. But one guy yelled on me: "Ha ha, look at Angel, his brother is dead!". On one of my friends, to whom I will always be thanked, told him: "Shut-up Jordi, imagine your sister died, how would you feel?". He paused, like thinking about it, and didn’t say more.
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