Summer night dream: Ducal Chapel
Introduction
Today it would be impossible for me. The arrival of summer reflected a moral problem: my mother, the usurper, did not always agree that I stayed with her, but we had to stay together until the orange mantle ceased, and returned to dad.
Meanwhile I knew not for my father, but by mom that he was possibly not going to return. That he possibly did not want to go back. I couldn’t believe it, but I soon discovered, talking to the hysterical, that I had started dating another woman. When I tried to comfort her through jovial jokes, she limited himself to destroying the whole kitchen. The beautiful kitchen we had chosen all three when we moved to the residence six years ago.
Developing
Once, when I had seven, in my tender and terrible childhood, I had the opportunity to see a woman in the act of contacting God. My grandfather had died, and next to his ceremony, behind the Ducal chapel, she was on his knees. I listened to its pleasant distant voice, mixed in discreet pueril joy. I was not enough to identify what made me feel, but now I see it. He was animated and jealous for his excessive peace. I could not join or mentally.
A noise of violent steps made me lift the sad eyes of the septile mosaic of the patio: white and blue tiles. A black shadow walked on marble and the shoes fell between the water clusters through the rains. A young nun, tall, pale, with a big nose and brown hair, quickly left the sacristy and without paying attention to the garden to the garden.
I did not see his eyes, but his hands, whose appearance were that of ecstasy and veneration. I had never seen until then, such a flare of purity and happiness. I expected, ecstatic, that the rays of its splendor would also reach me, and that this spiritual energy hug me whole, at least for the rest of my life.
Mom was the antonym of that experience, and right now, my binocles were looking for her and focused her from the dining room. I had a carafal fear, and the noise of the cutlery crashed with the bell worsened my condition. She was shouting as she cried, and I didn’t understand why. I prayed, prayed with the little faith that I had left, and I sank into a deep despair.
Some nights of my fourteen, when the darkness investigated for three quarters, long before the usual time in which my parents were going to sleep, I could ride guard from my three observation posts, and that same darkness told me they were at home. The car never parked in the garage because it did not enter, and that was one of the main reasons why they argued during dinner. That was the third night that came out on foot, leaving the light of the hall on to make me believe that they were still inside. Subsequent considerations and deductions had convinced me that the night of the tragedy had also been a two of August, with the difference of three years.
It was a windy, dark and sad night. I sliced myself from the bushes to the back of the house. For a moment I thought that the lights that adorned the patio would be turned off, but I felt a unique relief when discovering a weak square of light emitted by an old and yellowish focus. Both were sitting on the dispose -fled metal bank that cradled in the patio core.
I was able to see them both with the sad looks. My mother shuddered and the nose sounded;Dad’s face was red and wet. Not knowing at that time what weighed them, I understood that my family was destroyed. They no longer loved them, and they had lied to me in my face throughout my life. Listen to her words, telling her that she loved someone else.
conclusion
As I struggled to see better, stuck to my knees in a hedge of leaves, I dropped the loss of a garbage bowl. I justified myself thinking that they could have mistakenly thought that it was the work of the wind. Mom hated the wind. Mom hated everything. I backed away with the pain and chest, knowing that my mother not only abused dad and me, but that he was so immersed in his manipulation, that he did not care that my mother had been going out withsomeone else, in order to have her next to him.
If you no longer love him, why don’t you let him love someone else? With fear of hitting me, I was ready to run to my old room. He had frozen hands for fear. The fury of his eyes consumed me, and in the height of his despair, he took the pan in his hands with the food of that afternoon. The hot metal hit my stomach and the oil stuck in my shoes. The war was starting once again.
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