grand-ma
i was very little so i can only remember pictures from the day. an anchor laid out on a grassy patch. pizza and pop i was looking forward to. a tall elegant woman holding my hand, collapsing. the smell of the river.
grand-pa
he used to tie my school apron in a huge bow. we'd run to his part of the house to watch cartoons in the black and white telly. one day he fell ill and disappeared. for ever i had this dream: i could see his head framed in a window, as i got close, his head would fall backward onto me. i wish we had been there to say goodbye.
visiting hours
some sundays dad and i would go to visit his parents, my grandparents. we would always stop at the flower market opposite the entrance. smelling of sweet decaying flowers. i used to love watching the birds of paradise, the orchids, the irises, but we always bought carnations and i always chose which colour.
later, i outgrew the visits with my dad and would sneak up by myself. no flowers, just cigarettes. sitting on the place one day will be my home, i would talk to grand-pa and grand-ma, cry for them and for me. missing them, missing my mum and dad, missing me being a child.
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