It was friday morning and i was still smiling despite the musical nose snot and tiredness nothing was going to make me depressed (not even being rubbish bored and discouraged at football) Yo tengo una papa, i had a father.
It had been like a fairytale the kind that you dont allow yourself to think about, it had been the kind of night and conversation that you never allow your mind to imagine, its like i had cut it out with an anesthetic. I didnt realize till i herd those words how much my past had effected me.
I couldnt wait until next week, hopefully i would have shifted this stupid cold and figured out to loose the ridiculous amount of weight i seemed to be putting on get my head in the books and go deeper into conversation with him.
His english had been amazing, he had had 4 hours of one on one per week for the last 7 weeks, he´d joked with my mother that his english teacher was rich but that he now spoke english. We had both been so nervous and spent the last month or two preparing. I hadnt realized quite how emotional it had been until i spoke with my other the tears streaming down my face as i recounted his words.
Nothing was going to touch my mood, yo tengo un papa.
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1 comment:
Fantástico!!
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