lunes, 4 de octubre de 2010

The pink volcano

My memory isn't what it used to be, I don't know why that is but sometimes I can't even remember what I did that morning, it's becoming a bit frustrating to be honest, the feeling that my memory is tricking me and deceiving me.Of course I'd never admit to that out loud, pride is my capital sin, the worse of the seven some say, I don't know, I just know I'm too proud to do and admit many things.

One of my strongest memories is about the pink volcano, and no, it's not an effect of any psychedelic drug, it's the title of a book, a children book that my grandpa bought to me when I was around seven. From my dad's side I'm the oldest grandkid, and perhaps I'm the only one of us all that knew our grandfather, or at least that was old enough to remember him. He passed away from a combination of Parkinson's and Alzheimer's.

I still have that book today, and perhaps I'll give it to my first grandkid if I ever have one. Who knows? But this is one of the best and saddest memories I remember. After giving me this book, which is about a giant ice cream volcano that a grandfather buys his grandkid, my grandfather took me out for an ice cream. I remember it clearly because my grandfather was usually silent when he was with me, although he always smiled, except for the last part of his disease where he wouldn't even recognize us.

I love the pink volcano because it's the strongest connection I have to the man, I mean I remember how he used to talk, how he used to walk, how he liked to drink a glass of wine every day with his meal, but like I said I feel like I have to write all of this down because of my brain. One day I won't be able to tell anyone about the pink volcano, but this way, perhaps, I will.

My grandma is well, she's one of the people I love most in the world, she's just... She's amazing and I don't think I've ever seen such a broken heart than that of my grandma when my grandpa died. Sometimes when I don't feel bad about a lot of things that I should feel bad about, perhaps because I'm a cynic or perhaps because I'm selfish, I remember the way that I feel when I think about my grandpa and it makes me feel like I'm still human and not some robot that doesn't have any emotion towards other people.

In a weird way, that small yellow book lying on my bookshelf along next to the likes of Tolkien, Rowling and Brown, is what keeps me human and what will keep me sane even through the hardest of times. It's also probably the reason why I always eat ice cream when I'm depressed to make myself feel better.

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