The chance encounter with a person, has led me to recall a tender remembrance of childhood. In the man who was ahead of me in mesticheria, thanks to some "clues", I recognized the fellow who received asylum from the first marriage proposal ever. I am not surprised that for him my figure has not been a source of such recognition.
My emotional memory has the disease. Hardly is shared.
Moreover, the asylum my visits were reduced arc of about ten days in all.
I know because I was told in later years. In my child's mind, however, those days were endless. In childhood, the perception of time is dilated. In addition to
M ., The "child" of mesticheria of those days I have left a sense of dread. What I stirred up the sisters. Other than
front of my eyes, I still have the little girl with curly hair who refused to eat the white rice. And the grim monacaccia that, by force, he insisted on rice crop forkfuls straight down his throat, heedless of the cries of the almost necking, of being sick and the tragedy of white grains, mouth, radiating all around.
These, however, are unnecessary digressions.
M. gave meaning to those days. It was the first child that I noticed, just arrived. It struck me to see him play by himself. It seems strange that in four years may prove as clear the profound cruelty, el 'injustice, marginalization. I mean, no one teaches it to you at that age. No one had explained some "Do not discriminate! The children are all alike." Like anyone, I suppose, had imposed on my other fellow asylum "Do not play with that baby! not you see that is different?".
(This gave him my arbitrary belief that environmental factors, compared to DNA, count for little or nothing).
The diversity of M . Consisted of a physical defect. Cleft palate, commonly known as cleft lip. Noted in addition to external appearance of the face, was reflected in a strange way of speaking. This was more than sufficient to justify his play solitaire.
Clearly, it soon became my best friend.
That was an alliance between different?
My "diversity" was not originated from a disability or physical and mental defects. It was the result of my personal perception. Children, notoriously, are carefree. That carefree, when I began to relate to others, not me never really belonged. In short, I felt a world apart.
The day M . asked me to marry him, I found myself in a dilemma. To remember it so well today, it means that I took it seriously. And I analyzed the situation seriously. Résami realize that only love I felt for him, did not seem the case to accept. So do not feed the illusions of good people and then threaten to cause injury. You do not make promises that we already know they can not keep. But, and this was heartbreaking for me, if answered negatively, he would investigate the reasons of my choice. How could I, at that point, be honest and explain "Why I do not like you enough "? I would have mortified. He experienced all the pain of rejection. So, I tried to mediate. I thought that the best solution resided in a witty response, both serious and facetious. Taking advantage of her exhibitionism a little clownish , of his wanting to show off at all costs just to be nice to me and entertain me, I pointed his supposed "unreliability" and a tone that was a hybrid between a joke and a good-natured rebuke, so I giustificai:
"But not you see that you're a clown?"
Her laughter tells me that I gave the right answer ... And I felt very relieved and proud.
However, this morning, I looked at him and tried to get me courage "Now is the time to dare! This time you'll make it to show up! Now you tell him that today ... You could have been his wife."
Of course, shyness has screwed me once again. And I did not say anything.
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