I was very happy when I was a child. I loved going to school, I loved staying at home or playing with my neighbours in the communal patio we shared. I loved glancing at my abue’s telenovelas while doing my homework in the dinning room table
I didn’t go to birthday parties or play-dates, but I was happy.
I didn’t have a father, but I knew my mum, abue and Avi loved me so much.
I didn’t go out to restaurants, but I loved staying home with my mum on Saturday’s afternoon eating potato chips with chile y limón.
We didn’t have a lot of money, or a car.
We didn’t travel.
I never called anyone papá.
But I was happy.
I was always aware of my mum’s hard work and all the sacrifices she made so I could have new uniforms and shoes every year; I knew my mum would work overtime so the Three Wise Men could always stop in my house.
I don’t remember ever been sad as a child, all my memories evoke smiles. I know I owe all of these to my mum and abue. And I smile while writing this, I feel so lucky to still have in my life -even from far way-such wonderful women.