Past.
As always there was the crowd, the avalanche of gifts to wrap, the clients impossible, racing to arrive on time after lunch, the garlands to be packed, burns from hot glue and fingers cut by the wrapping paper. The usual horrendous evil in the neck, the same desire for chocolate.
Then there was the snow.
cheeks red and fallen trees throughout the city but especially in my neighborhood: a hundred years old pines that were losing huge branches on the street, road closures, public transport ko, and large walk in the snow with the loud music in my ears and the smile opened up all that white and the silence. Lunch at the home of my head, with rotisserie and fried chicken made in the tender child that makes me see all their games and then sits like a cat on my lap to get to put my shoes.
The gray dawn, the rain, the carousel of fire trucks throughout the city, just another pregnant friend, photos of Celeste growing and yearning to see her grow from afar.
After lunch and family dinner leftovers, pass the phone rite, the uncle who sends you a ticket with "one hundred thousand the" ritual of the evening to watch movies of Chaplin.
be full and empty at the same time, hear their steps that make noise, feel the skin pulling, sweetness and bitterness that we invaded to remain firmly in place.
Christmas.
Two days to discover what may be hiding their feelings.
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