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canciones and memories

10 June 2007 - 10:53

No ha pasado un solo d�a desde que mi hermana y Angel se fueron que mis padres no lloran. 'Apa hablo hace rato, llorando porque he heard la cancion que le cantaba a Angel. I remember the way 'Apa would sing it to him, his eyes crinkling up with supressed laughter. Angel would look at him and then turn away, bashful. Esa cancion siempre chviava al Mono. And 'Ama cries whenever her song comes out on the radio, the one she used to sing to her grandson. "Dame un besito," she would sing as she washed dishes. "Mira que me estoy poniendo viejo. Ya paso un minuto y no te tengo..." And wherever Angel was in the house, if he happened to hear her singing, he would run over to my mother and give her a kiss, because that's essentially what the song is asking. She hears that song now and can't sing it, only cries. And 'Apa will try to sing his song for Angel, but he also fails, and he cries. All they do now is weep. Me mata por dentro.

�Y yo? How am I doing?

Horribly. Extra�o a mi sobrino, extra�o a mi hermana. Shit, I even miss her fuckin' cats and turtles. Pero trato de no pensar en eso, I try to keep myself busy all day. Wake up early, sleep late so I'll sleep heavy and not dream (or not remember my dreams). Right now 'Ama and I are painting the living room, where the Dud and Mono used to stay. Without all their things in there, it feels so empty. The room literally echoes. So we're doing something with it, 'Ama and I. We're gonna remodel it, and I'm recording it as we go, so I can mail a copy to the Dud and Angel, so they can see us. I'm looking for shit to do on the weekends, like go to rock concerts and shit. So I won't have time to be home and think. I wanna be cautious about it though; don't wanna go spending all my money on shit I don't need. Todav�a queda la barda por terminar, and I'll need all the money I've got saved up and more, I just know it. I'll probably have to get a loan. But that's okay. At least I'll have shit to do. At least I won't have to think. And by the time I know it, a year, two years will have gone by, and the house will be remodeled, and there'll be no traces that the Dud and her son were once living here and maybe then I'll get a little peace. Maybe...

Si no fueran por todas las lindas memorias que nos han dejado en esta casa, alomejor pudiera llegar a creer en el talvez.

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