Arturo! I want you to visit Abuelo this afternoon.
The children of my Abuelo (including my mother) moved to New York and then, to New Jersey (where I was born). When he got sick, no one could help him so they brought him to a Nursing home called "Golden Years"
Ay Mama! look at all this books I have to read!
Also, we always visit Abuelo in Christmas!
But, what if Abuelo is not here for Christmas? Please son, do it for me.
I don´t like the place, it smells strenght-ammonia and I get depressed in this place. My grandfather is also named Arturo.
Against the wishes of my father, she sent me to High School in Mayaguez.
What are you doing abuelo? Writing the story of your life?
I always wanted to be a teacher and a writer. I knew with all my heart that I wanted to be around books.
Si hijo, how did you know?
Let me tell you the story of my life.
I have time, Abuelo.
Yes hijo. You have spoken the truth. La verdad. You have much time.
Then she married my father, a coffee bean farmer. She taught us words from the newspaperthat a boy on a horse brought it every week to her. She taught us how to write with chalks that she ordered by mail every year.
My mother always read us the Bible, the stories of spanish conquistadors and pirates stories
I loved words from the beginning of my life. In the campo where I was born one of seven sons.
My mother brought me a beautiful guayabera. I was a happy young man. In those days, you could teach with a Highschool diploma.