Ines is my neighbor down the right. A 82 year old Chilean. This woman is all the grandmothers of the world into one, and humanity would complete in his heart without being cramped.
Descending shopping, I see her on the doorstep. She returned yesterday before a trip a month in his native Chile, flourishing, full, beautiful inside and out. I even suspect of being a little younger than his departure.
In one month, she missed my little disaster, my abysmal chasm to myself, my break. With his infinite kindness she asks me to guess that Elise and concise in my answer to everything I say. Then she hugs him, simply. No shame, no restraint and most importantly, no discomfort. Me, I want to cry of joy and sorrow all at the same time. Everything I have tried to explain, she knows it. What I experienced and what I still have to pass, she knows it. And the share of comfort that I refused again, she offers it to me. Issue.
As if that were not enough, she adds: "My son has great plou cinequante-houit years are always like oune grand-son. .
Thereupon, I help him carry his packages her home. She tells me she will soon give me some empanadas. On leaving, I told him to take care of her and she replied with a smile of an old lady who has nothing to fear nothing, "No, always take care of you. . Go to contradict it.
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