“I’m home. I think I have a fever.” I was really cold and the sun was shining on the dry grass. People were eating ice-cream. I laid in the long, green couch in the living room. There was a small, soft, and warm blanket near the couch. I unfolded the blanket and wrapped myself in it like a caterpillar in its cacoon, metamorphing into a beautiful butterfly. The house was big always smelled like Mexican food. Outside there were a row of roses in different colors, red, pink, white, and yellow. I was starring at the blank, white roof above me. I thought life is good, except me getting sick.

I was asleep. I must have been tired. I was dreaming of Mexico. I dreamed about El zocalo and how colorful that place was with lots of trees, people, cars, so beautiful. The balloon seller selling the colorful balloons. I haven’t seen those balloons since my grandpa had bought me the last one, that was about seven years ago. He was selling the balloons to this little boy with his sister by his side. She had a huge grin on her face. The little boy handed the money to the balloon seller. The little girl jumped up and down. I thought wow they are happy with a simple balloon. The children didn’t seem to have come from a wealthy family. Their shoes were torn. The coat of the little girl was dirty, and torn. Her brother gave the balloon to her. Her yellow teeth showing in her huge smile. She looked at me with her big, black eyes. Then she ran up to me and gave me her balloon. I had a coat that was white, warm, and new. I took it off and wrapped her in it. She smiled and giggled. I laughed. I asked her if she liked it. She said yes and thank-you. She asked the same question about the balloon. I told her I loved it. She ran back with her sweater, it looked huge on her.

Then it rained. I was wondering how can it be such a sunny, beautiful day then rain. I was cold and wet. then out if nowhere my grandpa wrapped me in his old blanket. Then a sudden ring woke me up. My mom wasn’t home. i felt a shiver run at the back of my spine. I was afraid to answer the phone, for some strange reason. 

                                              ”Hello?” I said, “Who is this?” on the other line they were crying. I got so scared.

                                              ”Is your mom or dad home?”, they asked.

                                              “No, who’s this?”, I asked again.

                                              “Your aunt, Feliz.”, she finally said.

                                              “What’s wrong, Que pasa?” I was afraid to ask that question. My grandpa had been sick weeks ago. So I feared the worse.

                                              “Baydi…your grandpa died…” , she started to sob.

I broke. She kept talking but i didn’t understand a word. It’s not that i don’t speak Spanish, I do, it’s just that for some strange reason I couldn’t  speak nor understand it. I was completely broken like the dish that i had broken a few nights ago. It had fallen, hit the floor and the pieces where everywhere. I had tried to put it back, but it was impossible. That is how I felt, like a broken dish. I cried and cried. I knew crying wouldn’t fix anything, but i couldn’t help it. I could have cried a river or even an ocean. I didn’t noticed when I hanged up.  I was still crying but i tried to put myself together so nobody would see that i cried. I remembered our last conversation. I remembered when I got there he was so happy to see us. He was tall, skinny, really, really old. We didn’t know how old he was. He had dark eyes, big too! He always wore his old black hat. He had little hair. He was really nice. I loved him and still do.

In our last conversation he told me, “Guerita, when you come and visit us again, you won’t find me you will find your grandma married with someone else.” I laughed then my throat started to hurt, like when you are going to cry, but try to hold it back. I couldn’t hold it so I cried. I hugged him tight and cried. He hugged me to. I told him not to think that. He was warm and fragile. I felt like if I squeezed him to much he would break. He cried too. At first I thought he was laughing, but then one of his tears dropped on my face. I never wanted to let go. I felt as if I did I would kill him of sadness. I wanted to take him with me. He told us not to go, to stay with him. My dad told him we couldn’t stay. I promised him I would see him, and he would see me too. But the promise broke when i got the call. I cried even more, I was mad at myself. Mad at the world for taking him. Mad at everyone. When i received the call i knew everything was going to change.

I was in depression. I felt the whole world had fallen on me and I was about to give in and let it kill me. I would let the weight bring me down. Like an ant being stepped on. But i wasn’t the only one with the world on them. My dad once told me that if my grandpa were to die he wouldn’t know what to do. I stayed quiet, thinking of what he had just said. I had never seen him cry. Until February the 15th. He cried and that shocked me, it was all so strange. I didn’t know what to do, so i hugged him and we both cried. I was always in my room, alone. I didn’t eat. I cried and cried, until no mare tears came out. I was pale and my eyes were red from all the crying. The day of the funeral I wished i was there. This way i could see him for the last time.

I had to let go of him, as much as I didn’t wanted to. I lost someone who was really close to. I learned there are going to be good and bad time in life I just got to learn to except it, I can’t do anything about it. I feel that since that accident i had become more mature. I’m not mad at the world anymore. I believe it was better for him to go and live in peace than him being here suffering and being in pain. I am going to admit every now and then I still get mad at myself for not going with my promise. He’s my guardingangel, and when the world comes crashing down I will know someone is watching over me, to protect me. I’m going to miss him calling me his “guerita”. He will always be in my heart.