My song-writers

I woke up in the morning and I saw all my books, my pens, files... In the past on my desk you only could see stories or dolls... And now, I know how happy I was in my childhood... How many fits of laughter I had, how many trips...

I remember when I asked to my parents: where become babies? and they answered this: you are the end of a song, your father wrote it and your mother sang it. How stupid! But I was happy with this explanation.

And now, I know how magical was my childhood... Sometimes I watch all the videos that my dad recorded to me. On the beach, in Disneyland, trying to catch the moon... And I know that my hildhood's happiness has travellled more than me, will be reproduced when I am not...

My house was my bed, my refuge... and my parents were my angels. They were always taking care of me, giving me eagerness... They gave me the hugest wings that I could have. They always have put sugar into my life, risking their lives if it was necessary...

My parents are all my life, and now, if I could, I would want give them the same happiness that they donated to me all their life.