Thursday, 08/21/03 - 11:46 am.
The first day of the semester wasn't extraordinary at all. Let's leave it like that.
I went to the airport this morning to say goodbye to my brother Alan. I'm afraid he'll be chosen (he will, he told me...he already knows US airport politics) to go into this certain room where migration cops (or whatever the hell they are) will ask him a lot of questions. Christ, he's just a doctor that wants to get a job.
I actually had the idea in my head that he'd come back only for a couple of weeks. Which is true. But one just can't help crying, can one? Specially when he starts to cry himself. I don't remember seeing him cry, never ever. And that's just terrible. He's a very serious man that all of a sudden becomes a comedian. I'd seen so many faces in him, but cry, never.
I tried to hold back the tears. It's for the best, right? He'll go to the USA, and will get a good job in a good hospital, like my other brother, Renan (he's a doctor, too, a pediatrician). In this country the conditions aren't the best to work in. It's kind of hard to be a doctor and have no medicines for your patients (I'm talking about public hospitals).
I came back home at 7:30 am, with a sore throat (don't you get one when you want to cry like mad but you don't let yourself?). I fell asleep and had a scary dream. Sometimes my dreams amuse me, because they're very elaborated. They're entire movies, with every single detail worked out. This one was about my family and a friend family staying at some farm, and some ghosts were trying to kick us out. Messages would appear on blank paper sheets (I remember reading leave my house, it was written by a girl, a 7 year old ghost), and then the whole house would shake, like in an earthquake. It sounds dumb, but it was actually really amusing (still, dumb).
I could've sworn it was 10:26 when I woke up. I know because I got out of bed and grabbed my watch. It said 10:26. I lied again for five minutes. When I came out of my bedroom, the living room clock said 9:15. I came back to check my watch, and it was 9:15 indeed. Perhaps it was another dream.
I feel tremendously tired, my head hurts and a little depressed, very sad. I miss my brother. I suppose I'll get used to it, like I always do. You do get used to it. Out of 4 siblings...none lives in this house anymore. Two brothers are gone abroad. One brother lives 30 minutes away and my sister, 15. She's the only one I see almost everyday (and her son Javier, of course). I know it could be worse. I am thankful for all them being in a safe place, with stability in every basic way. And also because we're all in touch with each other constantly.