What’s the best thing of being a child?, you ask. I’d say it is the feeling of eternity regarding every subject. I mean, there is no conscious perception of people around you getting old and, the goodbyes, only take a tiny minute. They are forgotten in the next one, while playing Mummies and Daddies or seeing Noddy goes to school. There is no understanding of transience, which appears to be just another weird word grownups apply when they don’t want us to comprehend the dialogue. Infinity, time without end, perpetuity. Mummy will always be there to make us soup and daddy will always snuggle us up beneath the sheets. Grandma will give us the usual chocolate cookie, while mummy is distracted by grandpa George, and ask us ‘Snoopie-doppie, don’t tell anything to your mummy, okey?’. On Sundays we will tricycle in a nearby garden and birthdays will keep on being an outdated version of Christmas, plus friends.
Then, one day, we wake up and all of this has suddenly changed – which is generally good but, sometimes, it sucks.
Then, one day, we wake up and all of this has suddenly changed – which is generally good but, sometimes, it sucks.
Papoila
2 comentários:
Oh Papoila, brilliant! Tu não me digas que é da Ellen?
Querida Nina,
Não é da Ellen, fui eu que escrevi (meio a treinar o Inglês meio a desabafar...). Fico contente que passe tão bem por um texto americano (e, a somar a isso, por um texto americano escrito pela Ellen - de maior valor, portanto). Será que ando a melhorar?
Ainda me custa que certas coisas tenham/estejam a mudar. Tenho saudades de quando a minha avó me dava bolachas.
Beijinho para a família* (E não proíbam a Maria de receber bolachas dos avós, sim? Uma ou duas não tem mal*)
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