Reminiscence, memories, vague recognitions of the past and lots of stories acquired during the long trip on this planet, a round earth sometime so big and others real small.
Our sky changes from blue to cloudy or stormy according not only to the seasons but mostly due to our own weather-feeling. Now from my new country, my second fatherland, sunny, gray, cloudy, land of the chiaroscuro which no wonder famous painters made so much of the magnificent tones of gray and wonderful yellows of the sun. A stunning contrast with the country I was born.  

Hospitality abounds and the country of my wife, children, and that of my grandchildren.
After the vicissitudes of last year, I have the second opportunity to write about the past and some of the “things” that happened to me, to others, neighbors, friends and compadres from here and there and nowhere. 
With the panache of becoming a writer I will use all the liberties that I may think of. Also, the language will become a mix of Spanish, Dutch, English and what have you.  The events of my plume will remind some of you of the past but bear in mind that any relationship with real events will be just a coincidence, however I think that a few will say: when was this?  

impossible, if he is talking about me is just impossible; Just a pack of lies – I never was there... ‘tara gueon …will be some of the outcries of the lectors.
The use of the different languages is a given fact. With the attained and use of some words to describe a sentiment or action, the stories, I think, will be more vivid.
Saudade conveys a better meaning, stronger, effective than Nostalgia or something like “ear boobed “is just impossible in Spanish. 

Take care is just unbelievable to the point.  Digu yo !
Of course, being things that may have happened in the family or among common friends your memories will be tested, the same thing with those of you reading my Spanish language baptized as  Carrascalinean-chilean, not yet recognized by the Real Academia.
I hope to write a few, God willing.

Inscribed in my mind is the loss (ours)of my father, a  great man, the man to whom we owe so much, at the beginning of the fifties and although the sun was shining, the clouds and the tears, torrential tears that made pathway of a very young man, a nine year old child man without any idea – until that fatidic September – of the difficulties and the violence, ferocity, viciousness of one’s life.

More pains we have had along these years, we think of those we lost along the way with sadness but also with joy. With the joy of having the privilege to love them and remember them during the best moments of their and our lives together.

We have been sons, uncles, daughters, brothers and fathers and grandfathers.

 And now, almost a month, missing Meli, our sister in law.

We remember them all, always.

 “Para morir hemos nacido…”  wrote a great poet, words that remind us of our own fragility, that our fleetingly life must be lived with intensity and love.  Also, all this make us remember our childhood, soccer games Sunday afternoon, Carrascal full of windows to be broken, shouts of a mother looking the mess left behind.
It’s trees in our small soccer field, swimming pool and girls thrown in with chairs and everything. A wonderful time in so many days of teenager’s happiness.
Wow, unforgettable.

And now, some odd fifty years in the future, I will try to put some of those moments on paper.
It’s time to get a pen a paper and write.

Miguel, September 2012./reviewed dec 2022