"I'm lucky," I keep repeating myself.
C. is a perfect child, as good as the bread, perhaps not excelled in school, but he plays the electric guitar as I dreamed of playing at his age.
E. is a force of nature: as stubborn as me, often bold, with an intelligence so quick that sometimes surprise me.
I'm lucky, I repeat. I am married to the same woman for twenty-two, thirty-three and I know we love each other with an almost morbid.
I'm lucky I still have enough hair to go from not peeled, as happens with my childhood friends, or as my father, one of the last survivors of the seventies who wore a simple carry-over.
I'm lucky, at least a week I have a bronchitis that does not want to go and last night I slept three hours. But I do not have to go to work and I can lounge around between computers and TV.
I'm lucky, in these years I could give everyone a peaceful and comfortable life and have never had need to get up before dawn to clean a street or mixing cement.
I'm lucky, so lucky to suffer for the job makes me feel that there is almost laughable.
I'm lucky I still have enough hair to go from not peeled, as happens with my childhood friends, or as my father, one of the last survivors of the seventies who wore a simple carry-over.
I'm lucky, at least a week I have a bronchitis that does not want to go and last night I slept three hours. But I do not have to go to work and I can lounge around between computers and TV.
I'm lucky, in these years I could give everyone a peaceful and comfortable life and have never had need to get up before dawn to clean a street or mixing cement.
I'm lucky, so lucky to suffer for the job makes me feel that there is almost laughable.
You expect too much luck sooner or later you must return. With interest.
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