1 2 3 drops on my cheeks ... I remember the silence that almost all my childhood I spent at home. And every time I went to the kiosk were with me the next block, crossed hands, but all the way we were by the hand, to buy all sorts of goodies for the evening. Vos you stood by my side, the Kiosquero looked at you and you tell him to notice me because I was going to say what carry. To you love to tell you as simply pointing a finger what he wanted and gave me the kiosk else, but whom I had not changed his decision ...
4 5 6 droplets on the shirt ...
Your routine was to walk those blocks to the bridge of the colon, but if you bring for me, these squares, were all an adventure, walking in the evening when it's getting dark ... I never felt so safe walking in the night when I was with you ...
7 8 9 drops on the floor ...
many times you fought with each other and with other everywhere! What stories! Or when you sank or collided with the car and everything and nothing ever happened to you. A person without pain, never hurt anything, not the head or the belly or anything ...
A smile lights up my face ...
What I carry with me were these demonstrations of love, when I visited and greeted you:
"Hey Grandpa, how you doing?
- now much better.
And while you gave me kiss you eyes filled with tears ...
I'll never forget all that, "I will love you," he said ...
Thanks Grandpa, I very happy you did.
(I can not write more)
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