Twilight is not mine. We all know who owns it and owns us by writing it.
Hi, Sorry, I had a really hard time, writing this week and I was feeling kinda sad... I almost decided to take this story down. I love writing it, but I haven't had that much feed-back (I love my reviewers, thank you so much for taking time to write about what you feel about this) but I decided to suck it up and keep going... So here I am...
Chapter 26
The strong strums of the guitar, accompanied with low humming of his voice, and the low lights of the candles flickering around the makeshift stage, created an entrancing atmosphere.
The sounds that have always felt comforting during my life, now make me anxious and overwhelmed.
I watch my father, as he creates the rhythm and my mother follows and creates the dream of emotions that range from betrayal, sorrow, longing, death and grief.
The songs that have always accompanied my mother are always with tales of abandonment, pain, and suffering, her happiness or as she always says the beginning of her life had always been when she saw my father for the first time, outside a bakery during a dreary and rainy day.
**He was sitting under the shade of a potted tree, strumming his guitar, with his hat on the sidewalk, with a few coins in it.
It was a sad sight, but his beautiful voice was what I loved about him. His eyes the color of moss, and his hair was dark with the rain and slicked back.
A stared at him listening to his music under the cover of a near by bookstore –where I had stoped because of the rain; he would lift his face every now and then when someone would tose some change in his hat. It looked as if he was praying; his features where angular, stong, and very male, he was beautiful.
So I walked with a purpose in my soked clothing -not carring that every step I took a squeak could be heard and I dropped all the bills that I had in my small purse. He looked my way to thank me, but his words died in his thought.
He stood and smiled at me, and that's all it took. We where in love.
Until that day on, we where never far from eachother
All I knew was that I loved him and since I had no one he became my love, my family my world…
You see, I was an orphaned and a few weeks before that day, I had turned 15 and was asked to leave the institution, I was given money that I had earned while in Sta. Maria de los Ninos.
So I had little but the clothes on my back and a small carpet-bag that was left by my mother before she died.
I had no memories of her, but knew she had loved me. So when I left the sisters, I knew that I had to sustain myself, by working.
The day that I saw your father, I had decided to look for work at that same bakery, I knew how to bake since the sisters had been very loving and had showed us all to bake desserts and such to sustain the orphanage, I also loved to cook so I had decided that if the bakery did not want me, that I would look for other employment at a café down the road. I eventually did find work, but when Jairo's family decided to leave the town, I had to make a choice, and I knew I could never be away from your father. I was happy that his family understood his love for me and they where welcoming even if I was an outsider.
So, I ran away with him…***
That had always been my bedtime story even before I could speak. I knew it by hart. I loved that story.
When I saw how loving they where with eachother, how my father always called her: -"meu cel, meu vida"-, her eyes always answered him, it was like they had there own language, that they could speak with there eyes.
So I always knew that I wanted what they felt for eachother.
I wanted there kind of love.
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