No Matter How Dark The Winter Is

                  No matter how dark the winter is.

   When I was 12 year old, my life completely changed. It was 08/08/08, and I remember this as if it was yesterday. 

   I grow old living with my mom, my grandpa and my grandma, and if you also had this great opportunity, you will understand me. My mom had that kind of work that she had to travel all of over the state to sell the toys of a Toy Store. What least for me, was to live day after day with my grandparents. And those were the best days of my life. I would wake up and drink a big glass of milk, than I’d go to the TV room and start to watch the cartoons. While I did that, both of them started to do what they always did: Reading. My grandpa read all of the books you can imagine. Since Victor Hugo to Nicholas Sparks. And my grandma used to read her magazines of Architecture and Culinary – she was a great cook. 

   My life was just that. Every day the same thing. My grandpa and grandma reading all the afternoon while, little by little, I started to fall in love with it. They had some kind of connection, you know. That strong connection that couples with more than 50 years living together has. It was beautiful. It was great. Cause I felt like I was in home. I never had a father to talk to, but my grandpa did that to me. Also my grandma. 

   Little by little I started to love reading as well. Actually, I believe that would be quite difficult to this not happened with me. I think you would agree, if you know that there was a special room in that house, with more than 3000 books and 5000 magazines in there. 

   I don’t even have to say that my grandpa was like a father to me. Not just that, but like a friend to… Like a hero. I loved everything about him. I loved his sweetness with his books, with me, and most of all, I loved his sweetness with my grandma. I think my first experience with knowing what LOVE is was with both of them. What is kind of different, you know, having the first experience with knowing what LOVE is. People always think that love is something YOU feel for another HE or SHE, but they forget that love is in the air. Love is that kind of feeling that is unaccountable, but, more than that, is a feeling that everyone can have, even if it’s by knowing that some other one that you love, love another one that you also love, like the way it was with me, my grandpa and my grandma.

   But the sad part about this was when the Winter Come. As I said, it was 08/08/08, and me and my friends were at school, watching the beginning show of the Olympic Games. Here in Brazil this kind of events has almost the same power than the SuperBowl has in America. But that is not the point I want to go.

   When I back home that afternoon, for the first time in years I saw my mom at home and not working. Actually, when I get there, there was a bunch of cars that almost filled the whole street. My hearth started to beating faster and faster, and when I got to the TV room, it was like I know what was happening.

   For the first time in 12 years my grandpa was crying in the TV room in an ordinary afternoon. But, most frightening than that, was the fact he was alone. Of course he wasn’t ALONE, but you know what I meant.

   My grandma died that day. The ordinary day of 08/08/08, when the most part of the world, mostly the Brazilians, were happy. Smiling. When the most important one in my life was crying all alone. Screaming “I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THIS WAR ANYMORE. I WANT TO LOOSE IT. I WANT TO GO WITH HER. SHE WAS SO PRETTY”. 

   And me, a 12 year old boy, that was seeing his hero falling apart, understand for the first time that life can turn on a dime. And love can hurt so bad as much as he made us happy. I understand that day, that if I’d like to be like my grandpa, I would have to be as strong as a super hero can be, cause Winter can always show up, and you can’t foresee it.

   And you know what? My superhero did it. He won the war. I won the war. Cause no matter how dark the winter is, the summer will always appear with a great light. The light that angels radiate. 

   Angels like my grandma.