may malen´s diary, the beginning

when Mum and Dad were little and very good friends

Some thirty years ago, I used to carry my youngest daughter to the school, half a block away from the house.  She was blonde, red on her white cheeks, very cheeky, even with me. What a big patience from Dad…

Her face used to illuminate as soon as she saw Katy Pompar, her teacher, and that lot of friends, always surrounded by  Russel, Cosh, or  Campbell,  Harrison and another, distant classmate, Felix Ilsley. There were many more. Time passes away and one forgets names, but not faces, games and intimacy.

Time passes away so quickly, so fast. One day, you are born, next day, you go to school. Our babies grow up so fast, that terrifies. Why? Because, as you grow up, we get older and, as you grow up, you gain your autonomy and our authority fades away. You start your studies, you specialize your knowledge.

One day, you ride your own bicycles by your selves in our Cambridge town and all along our surrounding countryside. Secondary School meets you at your eleven years of age, and six years later, you do your A levels at the  Pre University College for two years.

Your Mum Camila chooses art at her 14th years, Aunt Paula, Science, and your beloved Dad, also Art. They were made one for the other.

Mum Camila was always a brilliant student. Just a glance on a book and the ideas, as it also happened with our elder daughter Paula, became a memory in their minds that never perished or sunk.

The morning, was always a sacrifice for me, us Mum Camila shouted as she wanted to sleep more. This is why, to wake her up in the morning was an agony for both of us: she wanted to sleep; I hated to see the suffering of your Mum.

I invented tricks for her to be happier and smiley in the early morning. I used to go into her bedroom, slides myself into their beds and sung for them. It used to be a sweet lullaby to wake her up, very smoothly lovely and tender. For a number of years, she came to be the woman of the house: her Mother used to work away from Cambridge, and I, away from UK. Problems of the adults…that children pay…

Dad Felix studied at the same school. As their parents, Susan and Christopher were always on the move all over the country, one day Dad disappeared and went to another school in the south of Britain.

Time flows away. Felix and Camila became soul mates, the companion of each other, the caretaker for each other. I am so grateful for that outstanding friendship! Had we been witches and wizard, we would have known that one day they would have Ben and you.

As I said before and because of family work, Felix had to leave St. Pauls’ Primary school…and elapsed for a long period, until they came back to Cambride, met again as adult peers… and some years later, they fell for each other…

They meet again…and the miracle happened….. Despite my illness, I was flown to Cambridge, to take our daughter to the Registry…to marry…with a long veil, some six meters of length, same veil your Aunt Paula had used and Granny Gloria, as well, and before her, her mother as well, only that of a different shape: as years pass away, fashion also changes. It’ll be the same one that Maira Rose shall use, and then, you… and I´ll be there to accompany with Father Felix, straight into the altar. I have accompanied that veil when Granny Gloria and I married, when I take to the altar to Aunt Paula, and I´m sure I shall be there on the day of you wed…The wedding dress has always been different: Great Grand Mother Amanda dealt with Granny’s Gloria wedding dress, Granny Gloria made a big one for Paula, and another one for you. Veil’s can endure, wedding dresses change of fashion. Yours will be entirely different… if you want to marry. The veil was held by your cousins, Tomas and Maira Rose, who plaid the role of being pages, holding the veil for it do not the carpet on the way to the altar. Your Aunt Paula had a mapuche child, also in exile in the Nederlands, to hold her veil.

After the wedding, life changed for my two babies: they were mothers, they were Mum’s, and they were taking care of themselves, their husbands and of the house.

That is why, Dear May Malen, to be parents is only one second along our lives. You belong to us for as long you need support, such us sucking milk, change nappies, to learn of to eat, to use those new bones what appear into your mouth which we call teeth and makes the baby suffer.  Then, as soon as you go to the infantry, you shall invite friends to your house, Mum shall bake a cake for you all, as I did for my two daughters.

You are very lucky, you have parents that not spoil you but give you security, as Dad Felix does with you. Nor kisses, not caresses, just the sweet voice of your genitors to support you…

You are a lucky girl, you have the parents you deserve and you are sweet to them as they are with you.

This all what I can say, for the time being! These are your memories for the day you can read and understand what is printed. Your Abuelo writes a page a day, assuming that knows all what is going on with you, sane as I do with your cousins form mother´s side, the van Emden’s.

All the rest is between you are your genitors. I am only Father and Father-in-Law In days to come very shortly, the result of that affection will turn up into this world with love and attentions to others, you shall not be a baby: you’ll be simple my  any more as a she baby, whether Javiera, Imogene, Rebecca, not Elisa as I wanted, but this: May Malen. , played by Beethoven – Fur elise

Ivo Pogorelich plays Beethoven’sFur elise”. Video messes up in some spots, but it’s nothing too bad.

The name I wanted you to have, this musid written by Betthoven

Do you know that for two months you did not have a name? We used to call you carrot!

What a lovely meeting of Camila and Felix after more than 20 something years…They will last forever…