Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of WoundsTuesday, 13.II.79Yesterday, me and my mother met my father and my uncle.We were notified since Saturday. I went to Elbasan on Sundaymorning by bus to cater, and I turned back at 11.30. I didn’tgo to see my uncle. The other time left, I spend in the library.We went to Burrel, in 6.00 of the morning. Two guys accompaniedus*. The road was long and boring. It was sultriness. Mymother felt bad by the car and vomit. I was thinking what wecould do for one hour and what I had wondered to say to them allthis time.They permit us to meet 10 minutes with my uncle and 30minutes with my father. They said this at the last moment. Itwas unaccepted so I forgot everything prepared before. WhatI said I thought it was not the right one. The minutes fliedand at the end I thought I had said nothing, even we have notkissed each other as much as we wanted. I looked like a childthat his mother had promised a toy and had not bought it,lying him.Once again a long and boring road! Then we had a shortrest between two tiring roads. This is my father in my life.My strong and kind father!Now everything seemed to me senseless, almost ridiculous.People walking on the road, children that play, workerbuses, young guys that smoke and meet girls! Newspapers,words,… and my father there for 18 years. My father! Will Ihave any more my common life again? Some times I feelashamed from my self because of my little worries and my ridiculoussufferings…71