When I was born, seventeen and a little bit more years ago, the Golf War beggined. I was born, more or less, at 12:48, afternoon, but I always liked to say I was born exactly when the sun was at it's noon. There were a lot of reasons for that: It was easier to remember, it maked it a little more intresting, and, of course, it sounded more "apocaliptic".
With the very low information I received from my residence before that fact, I have allready decided that, with that situation, it was better not to go out from there. But doctors didn't agree with my proffesional opinion. So, exactly at noon, they started an operation to take me out, and, some time later, I was instantanely crying like saying: "I told you not to do this"
These were the first words my beloved uncle told my dad when he first saw me in the hospital:
"The good part is, in these times there exist lots of beauty products"
Not very nice. In my uncle's defense, I must say I was a gigantic whale-pink-ball-baby, with lots of hair and insanely-non-human-big chicks. In my own defense, I must say: it wasn't THAT bad.
My father always comments a little anecdote of the time I was on the hospital. He says the first face I learned to do what to rise one eyebrow and lower the other. Then. he always what to justify the action and says "but it was logicall, a nurse let you just under the sun lines"
My first memory is quite early, and quite rare. I am in a long, brown, soft and tied place (my parents bed, I know now) going directly to a red, nice cube. Then, something (my parents hands) rise me and pull me back, just to the place I have parted from: to take me a picture, now I know. I don't know what happened to that picture, but I remember it.
My grandmother (my father's mom) didn't wanted to knew me in those times. She was mad, because I was borned a girl. My parents have promised to give the responsability of my bapthysm (My family is Catholic, and my father's side, is quite religious.) to my father's parents if I was borned a boy, and to my mother's parents if I was borned a girl. So my father's mother was really mad at my own gender. But I have and explanation for my gender too. My father, before marrying my mother, asked to a Saint to helped him for marrying her, and, as a thanking, he will name his first boy-son as "Joseph mary". Well, if that Saint really helped him, his message, considering that I have no brothers at all, was clearly: "Do not thank me"
I like to use those memories, of my own and some other people, as a methafore for my life. My own family, lloking at me not very convinced, always saying that, fortunately, there already existed a solution for my "problem". Me, always controled, a bit, for things uncapable to understand, and rising an eyebrow to a World that hurted my, like the sun-shine, making a face to protect my own from the damage. Always going after a promising goal, and always sended again to my very begining by something, or someone, stronger than me. People that didn't really wanted to knew me, just because I wasn't what they wanted. And the very strong sensacion that people just washed theyre hands at the events that bring me to the world, and everyone with a bit of brains (including me) knew that my born was not exactly the best opcion.
To me too.
It is no rare, or ilogical, considering that beginning, all the events and situacions that come after those, and they become even clearer if you look at the older events, making a beginnig that wasn't, definitively, the best.
So goes my life. A silver melody, like the moon, sad and nostalgic, but still, kind of magical. Dark, but enlightened, like twilight. Kind of royal, like a gem, but a very different, unusual one.
And so goes the silver Melody...
