"You not want to be a brat, right? "
Every morning I look in the mirror and I turn to ask the same question. That also sounds "Caprichos no" demanding of my childhood.
As my grandmother, I am able to tell others what happens before and I dare to name, but sometimes it costs me and shake something. A woman opens her eyes to sleep, also with curiosity and hope. I, there is nothing more nor anyone else at that hour in the house. It's who I am, Laura, Laura alone and in front, watching.
Life is there for not giving us what we want, secret what we all desire. Sometimes it can be a fleeting illusion, others is constant thumping to the beat of the heart when solitude is a gap that grows and becomes larger. Then you sniffling and tears still fall. Without anger and calm now know well that I can say "No, Grandma, I'm not a brat" as I sit at the table of the largest and as an appetite so every day is on the plate. Perhaps at the top of the cupboard waiting for me even dessert with glass lid that without that I can still reach .
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(End of "darling", the whole story is Trabalibros. Thanks for reading and comments).
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