Steemians friends, this is my entry to the "Tell your Story" contest. I hope you like it.
Thanks to 
Attachment 2 drawings of my authorship, which recreate with simplicity found scenes.
I was only 8 years old, I'm talking about 40 years ago, every Sunday was a walk, the same tour of the house and two hours long way to see my dad. It was always an emotion to go and see him. My mother, A College professional, when she came with me and my three brothers, they opened the way and told her doctor's pass! I remember it was a very large place, located on a hill, with many armed uniformed and as I walked through the long corridors I saw around me women, children and men waiting to enter with food. It was a party for them to visit a loved one, I saw it in their eyes.
It was a routine that when entering, after sitting in a long cement bank, my brothers and I, without telling us anything, we took off our shoes and stockings and immediately put them back, never understood why. A uniformed woman hugged us, touching as if looking for something; Behave yourself, say goodbye. There we waited for my mother, who always entered an office that was at the end of a dark hallway, accompanied by the uniformed.
At last I saw him, he always expected us, in the distance he knew that we were close and when we met he hugged us a lot. People walked along with relatives to the top of that big building, looking for where to sit for the day, listening to a group of musicians who also made life there and were on Sundays when they showed their talent. They all danced and had fun; But we, in a small room of 3 x 1.5 meters, on the floor below, where my father worked making pieces of silver, I remember that he lit a blowtorch and taught us how to make his pieces to sell-had good behavior-only those who had could be seen Another way.
It was not bad, he only led his life wrongly by carrying and bringing forbidden product to society for the damage he does. He told us so many stories that made us laugh, talked a lot with my mother, she smiled; The time passed fast, and at 4 pm was the time to go, was announced with the sound of a strong ring that lasted several minutes. Meanwhile, people were queuing at the exit door. I remember that when we said goodbye no one was there, we were the last to leave, Dad always smiled
We lived a routine for 5 years, my mother showed her love and the opportunity for us to see what would mark us for good or for worse, what yes, was a reflection as it would come time to clarify doubts and decide what to do; And life to choose, because we are a reflection of our closest and understand people to their mistakes.
Today 40 years later, my mother, exemplary person, full, with much love to give yet, opened the window of a better future, grabbing his 4 children and, alone, walking through cumbersome paths and multiple stumbles, with his hands full of virtues that without a doubt Vimo s always formed from us professional human beings, capable of surviving before a life full of obstacles and without hiding behind a past today.
