-so long ago and I do not remember much ... which were small, more or less when they were at primary school. They came with those jobs were in the cole . "I remember. "For mom" with his signature initialed. Some still keep in those folders that have been tumbling move after move. Angela and
Palmira, continue your walk through the market . Look at all positions. They walk slowly, looking for the dime bags, shoes and other large souk stalls on Sundays. They speak of the human rather than divine. Always meet and have a coffee together. Today the market is filled with bouquets of flowers and large green leaves with showy flowers that seem dedicated, without wearing any label, any recipient.
"I'm not much given to these trade-holy celebrations and other inks promoted by the supermarkets. But, you might remember the mother who bore them, at least one day, if only by contagion. Angela says
suddenly stopping short before the stall of flowers.
"Look, I do not like these days of crowded restaurants. If I want to call or appear at home, saying, What you have today for lunch mom? What has always been "I say, though not the best day of the menu ... I would be delighted. He responds
Palmira, somewhat accelerated. You can be the heat of the morning of May or the dumb feelings which at this time could not help waving.
Now turn around and finish the tour. Take several bundles for the summer: Indian sandals and a fresh white cotton camisole. Happy for the purchase, a bargain, they say goodbye until next Sunday. Palmira
When it home has a great surprise party set table and the kitchen smells out feed. He laughs or cries do not really know what to do.
Angela takes a little longer to reach home. Her husband goes to him. He speaks, we see how they change course. Now, enter a famous restaurant in the town. Upon arrival are their children sitting. His face changes to see how to their feet to greet her.
In the silent thoughts of two women is still an idea: "I will tell my friend on Sunday market."
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