Some years later

I am Alek, a tall boy, legs with visible calves, athletic body, not too thin, square face and with a barely visible mustache, I have small eyes with the color that is for the most part dark blue with green and beige shades, hair dark brown and with some curls that go on its own, yes my hair is curly and too indomitable but when I get the brilliant idea of ​​shortening it I imagine myself with a bald head, so I give up.

I'm almost at the end of my studies now.

Even if it were up to me, I'd already been working for some years who knows where, but who takes a guy who can barely speak without making grammatical errors, who doesn't get excited in front of anyone because he is used to exchanging no more than two words at most because of his shyness?

For this my uncle, lucky that he exists, he needed two more hands a head and two eyes since he has only one good one, he made sure that since I am little that I help him in his work as much as I can do he accepts me as support worker.

Until a few years ago I had a lot of fun helping my uncle in his job, because I could use the excuse that he needed me to do nothing even if when he found out I had questions for the next day or homework he said to go straight at home and start studying at a good pace.

Unfortunately he died and in his place I work, trying to divide myself between home and work, not having a free minute for me, not that I don't like work but it would be nice to take a walk in peace without commissions on my mind.

The work I did helping uncle and that I do now is none other than a carpenter. A humble job but that has a lot to teach, like all those now ancient jobs that have almost been forgotten because of the technology that is making great strides even if you know where to look you find a good man who teaches you the trade.

The carpentry job, like any other job, has secrets, obligations and pleasures. Yes, you are obliged because if your client is a bit American or from the North where they are all precise, he is all well dressed, with an envious haircut, the branded clothing he wears, his way of speaking or gesturing it makes you think that he is a high-level person, worthy of respect or in any case making sure to satisfy his requests in the shortest possible time, of quality and above all well done.

These types of clients are angels for those who do a job like mine, because if they like the result and also a lot they pay you so much that you don't expect and as soon as they leave you jump for joy in the hope that others like this will arrive. . Then do your best to make them speak well of your shop that you finally managed to open after years of sacrifice, so you fix here and there the shop you wanted to open, the customers you dreamed of coming in, the dream had come true.

Returning to reality, to the current and sad reality ..

If not me, who leads the family? Thinking about it, only my aunt and I remain of the family because the uncle died about two years ago while my mother preceded him, it happened the same day as my fifteenth birthday and since then I don't know how much time has passed, as if I were entering a particular period.

I no longer know if I am still in that year, where everything proceeded very slowly, monotonous and generic or everything went on as if nothing had happened, as if I had stayed behind in time with my mind while the rest went on . Yes, as if time has stopped just for me and I don't know how old I am anymore because I have lost track of how much time has passed since his disappearance.

I have lost track of time, I am so dazed and confused that when I can see clearly and no longer blurred, when I finally feel his so clearly that it seems to me to have gone forward or back in time I cannot tell.

On the contrary it seems to me that I have moved on in time, because I find myself in the room where I was before, my back heavy on the mattress, my arms and hands in the shape of wings as if I were making an angel in the snow and my head put by a side is located close to the cushions.

As I get out of bed with one hand massaging my right temple, I notice that I was in a position where I never get on the bed or in the middle of the mattress with my legs going over the end of the bed with my feet dangling, what somewhat strange given that I am tall yes and no one meter and seventy. Once standing I have to be careful not to hit my head on the chandelier, I remembered being much, much lower, and then my voice << I HATE MY VOICE! >> I say aloud << my voice is changed >>

So I go to the next room where I think there is the bathroom, and that I find while with my mind I remember that I spent hours reading comics and trying to shave imitating my father, careful not to get a bump on my head I bend down to enter as I lower the handle of the glass door to the bathroom and scan the room.

<< uhm, nothing has changed except that now instead of the tub there is a very large shower cabin, for the rest it seems that not a comma has changed >> reflecting as I pronounce these words with the index and thumb under the chin and the other hand on the hip for a few minutes.

I leave the bathroom and head towards mom and dad's bedroom, always being careful not to hit my head, I enter and the first thing I notice is not so much the games of all kinds scattered everywhere, it all continues to seem strange , but they are two little creatures who, seeing a figure in front of the door, turn around, interrupting their game and one of the two runs crawling towards the door, while the other enthusiastically begins to scream excitedly with eyes full of joy and as soon as I step back closing the door so as not to disturb them that I find them attached to my leg.

Now, even the crawling child has started screaming like a madman, I try to calm them by remembering how my mother did when she sang me a nursery rhyme with her sweet voice that conveyed tranquility and serenity or with the softness of her hands when she caressed my face. he said not to do what I was doing because it wasn't right.

When they finally calm down and start playing again, I look around and I understand that I am in my house, the same where I was born and raised, realizing that I have two children. Wandering around with my gaze I see that in front of the entrance to the house there is a huge photo where a man is represented, which is me, then the two children with the typical face of someone who has done something with the eyes of a sweeter one and curious and the other who are more serious and very tenacious.

Both children are in the arms of a woman who may have been in her thirties. A woman of breathtaking beauty. In the photo she is wearing a long dress up to mid-calf with a package visible on the left side as they both look towards the camera, tight fitting which highlights her shapes in a more than balanced way.

The overseas blue dress with some light points made with white fabric that gives the impression of plunging into the night of San Lorenzo where the falling stars favor the fulfillment of the wishes expressed, she gave this impression as soon as she moved: to be outdoors in the countryside and in the pure air of nature.

The woman, however, had a unique peculiarity that distinguished her from other women and it was certainly not the altruistic, genuine, generous but also very tenacious and courageous character that her two children had inherited and not even the body that deceived everyone but her face: skin very soft to the touch like velvet, the same color as the pale pink of a rose that has just blossomed almost white and sometimes a blush appeared on her cheeks that gave her that childlike air.

The eyes of a very particular shape as a hybrid between the European and the Asian and then the main characteristic is that they changed color, generally they were of a cerulean but depending on the person with whom he interacted they went from bright green to light gray.

<< Now that I think about it, he looks a lot like a person I know very well, whom I also loved so much but the name escapes me. >>

While I try to think, trying to remember the face, I hear the door of the house open and in front of the large family photo or where I am, a female figure remains still that I recognize immediately seeing her from the reflection of the mirror in front of the glass door of the room where before there was the room of when I was little.

The female figure reminds me of my mother for a few moments because of her very light gestures and her French nose. But that wonderful woman is nothing but my beloved wife and once she has put the keys in the basket that is nearby she comes towards me greeting me with a kiss, her arms around my neck and my hands on her hips.

Now I remember! It was her, my mother, the most beautiful and good person I have ever met; tastier than the chocolate he made especially for me when I was little, especially when I was sad or down in the dumps. Yes, she was like that shy ray of sunshine that comes out lonely in a sky of new blacks ready to drive him out.

Another thing that I will never forget about my mom is the smile that melts everything, I will never forget her eyes, her perfume that I smelled when she hugged me and her laugh because these are the characteristics that make her special: her eyes were like mine but much more beautiful, if you focused only on his eyes it was the end because you risked drowning in them, yes drowning in them because they were sometimes clear as a clear sky and sometimes like the stormy sea: they were the most beautiful eyes

(as I called them when I was baby "the eyes of the angel").

My mother's laugh was like a melody, like the sound of the harp that was sweet, relaxing and very genuine; his was not just a laugh because when I listened to it it was as if he were singing a melody, yes, a melody but without words, a fluid and sweet sound, like that of angels.

My mom was a special person, really very special that I don't know how to describe her, maybe the right words don't exist. Maybe you don't even need to search for words to remind me of her, of my mom.

* AUTHOR'S SPACE *

But heelllloooo!
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