May Malen playing away with Abuelo, Parede, Portugal
….thanks to Ricardo Ferreira por the images….
As you fly away- you are going away exactly now-, as you flight back home, I think of you, of the week we spent together, with your parents, of your happiness, of your easy laughing about, of your tongue coming in and out of your sweet mouth, running away not to be kissed. Of your free spirit and of your wanting to be always sat down on Mum’s lap, my daughter Camila, or jumping away on the immense arms of Pa, Dad Felix by name.
It was hot, hot the whole week. Hotter that you expected, coming, as you do, from the very cold weather of our Cambridge.
You are so big for your age, only five months and twenty one days and it’s difficult to carry you on my arms. Of course, I’m much older and age does not forgive the lack of strength.
I have taught you how to play with your tongue, on and out of your lovely mouth, as I used to do with your Mum when she was your age, and she used to laugh as you do. It’s funny: neither you nor your mother was able to play with your mouth and make the sound at the same time. Mum used to laugh, I remember, in the garden of our house in Chesterton 133, not far way of the fair place. You did not laugh; you got bored and started to cry and to beg for Mum’s arms.
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