Kids and Simeons and terrorism.
Friday, 08/06/04 - 8:11 pm.

At the airport, I got the chance to babysit a two-year-old. She's the daughter of the sister of my brother's wife...so we're not really related. She was crying because my nephew and niece were leaving (going back to Houston), and she just wouldn't let go of them. She kept putting her little arms around their neck.

But she got used to my arms, and I looked after her almost the whole time. I loved having her in my arms, she was so small. We went into airport shops and I'd read her the signs: "children, please do not touch". She'd stare back at me and repeat the sentence, as much as her half-developed language allowed her to. She's unbelievable cute. It's a shame I only see her once or twice a year (given we're not really related).

There was a sign that said "careful, fragile". The little girl looked at it, and then looked at me: it says "do not touch, child"...see, I can read. Oh, my God. She won me over.

I discovered I really missed carrying a baby. You see, I've been babysitting since my first nephew, Renan, was born, twelve years ago. And I kept doing it when his sister was born two years later, and then my other nephew, another two years later (four, then). I loved it. Then my brother, his wife and the two kids went to the USA, for good, and I was torn apart, although I still had my sister's son (except for those two years when they went to Mexico and I was really alone). I guess I've always had at least one child in my life, since...well, since I was a child myself. I was seven years old and I was already an aunt.

This time around, we didn't cry when we said goodbye, when they (nephew Renan and niece Rebeca) were about to board the plane. I think we're just used to it by now, because it happens, usually, twice a year, and it's been happening for five years now. They come visit in the middle of the year, someone (usually me) goes visit at the end of the year. "We'll see you guys in six months", it's the usual goodbye at the airport, from both parties, the ones who leave and the ones who stay.

At times I was going to cry. I had this horrible urge of sobbing, or to stop them. The kids seemed to be very calm, although when Renan turned around to wave for the last time, he was crying. I miss them, but at least I know they made it home safely; my brother just called, "they really enjoyed themselves, they're happy about it. Thank you for looking after them". No thank you's. It wasn't a favor. I just love them.

So now it's just me and my other nephew (my sister's son), Javier. At least I can see him everyday. He was trying to hold back his tears at the airport, too (the only one who cried, and very scandalously may I add, was their cousin, the 2 year old I babysat...it was heartbreaking). It's tougher on him, because he's only child. They're like his brother and sister. I entertain him as much as I can, but I realize he needs somebody around his age. But we still have fun, really.

I drove the car today...out and back inside the garage. Just so Javier and I could play. I did pretty well, I believe. By the way, given I still have some trouble gathering the balls to drive, my mom hired a lady for me. I mean, the lady is an instructor, and she will help me drive to my university and such (I thought you'd say she'd hired the lady to drive you, my brother Alan said).

Last night I was told by two people that I write pretty well. And you don't even want to make a living out of it!, one said. I'd like to...I think I write quite alright, but...let's say there's room for improvement. In any case, though, I am trying to come up with ideas of what to do. In general.

Yesterday I found a Simeon notebook that I'd started in 2001. It's the last one I worked on. It's not that bad. Simeon laughs to the point of becoming immune to gravity, and then he laughs so hard he goes in a coma. It's four years later, and the notebook is only halfway written. I stopped writing in 2002, after my 18th birthday...I know that's the time because there's a "legal age" reference, concerning mental powers.

I thought it'd be a shame if the notebook became a trashcan, just for senseless doodling. So I picked it up today, with the intention of finishing it (to my grief, I am out of ideas). I made the cover for it, the book didn't even have a name, how rude of me. But now it does....and it even has a sticker, FREE SABBATICAL INSIDE!!! (because there is one, a four-year long one, introduced by a stoic Simeon saying: "somebody has drunk my soup"). I think I will sort out all of my Simeon notebooks by year this week...not that I'm the best thing ever, but there's some nice stuff in them.

I learned last night that the country faces a terrorist threat, for sending troops to Iraq. That scares me, but I can't say nothing but "it serves you well" to these stupid presidents of mine, who insist on sending troops when our own country is starving. But obviously nothing will happen to them, just to common people who will happen to be walking by the building that'll be bombed. Or whatever they plan on doing to us. You know what I hate? Today's another anniversary of the dropping of the bomb in Hiroshima. Have you heard something about it? Obviously not. In my book, that's terrorism, too. Dropping a bomb on thousands of civil people...who, by the way, weren't going to attack any place overseas, because they had a life of their own to deal with.

Yeah, ok, let's leave the debate for some other day. I miss the kids. The house feels very empty tonight.

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