prosepoem

My brother´s tie

My brother’s tie.
Every single morning my brother chooses a tie. He goes to work with a constant intensity, ever since he found work in this dense city. Since before he graduated he earned a part time job, under constant pressure from both school and office. He wore a suit that made him look cool, and as soon as he go the fuel, he went to work with a grin on his face and spirit held high. He always had conflict with school authorities but once he graduated he felt like flying in the sky. He got hold on his priorities as work came all the time and it was a steep hill to climb. He still finds support in the family even though our parents live in a different town. Still he always finds help when he’s down, as I’ll always be around. And even he goes though days storming, he still chooses a tie every single morning.

 

My brother has at least 50 ties in his closet. Every day he wears a different one of a distinct color, from the darkest to the oddest patterns. Every single one tells a different story, but for him all of them matters. Some’s bought at graduations and weddings, each talking of all his blessings. His grey tie was a gift from my grandfather, a perfect mixture of black and white, which carries my grandfather’s honor and might. The golden tie comes from my father, a tie so gold that shines, he uses it many times, whenever he wishes to carry my father’s heart and pride. His green tie, which happens to be my favorite, was a gift from my mother. It has the same color as her eyes, a tone of green that is shaded but cheerful, a color that energize. Every day he comes out of the house with the same ties, every single one tells a different story.

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my father´s orang juice

My father drinks orange juice every single day, i dont remember a day i havent seen him. Every morning he wakes up at 7 am for work, he showers and goes to the kitchen for breakfast, of course , the orange juice is always there. When we go out on vacations; on restaurants, hotels, at a friend or famillies place he always asks for orange juice. I call it “hes morning coffee”. The reason i find this odd its because it´s a daily thing and i have never even wondered what he things about his juicy treat. In my house some say he does it because he doesn´t want to get sick, my mom thinks it´s because his mother use to do the same thing, my brother doesn´t seem to care he some times handles it to him and haves a small sip out of the glass, even the cleaning lady thinks that is a supertitious thing , like if something big is going to happen if he doesn´t have it. I dont think thats really a reason why he has it every morning. He has the same name that i do , so thats one of the main reasons that i discard the cleaning lady´s hipotesis.

My father is a farmer. He has been a potato farmer since he graduated from university , here in Monterrey. He started working with my grandfather many years ago. He does almost the exact same things since then, always the same activities; he goes to the field everyday to see how the crops are doing, comes home for lunch always at the same time, has a small nap, goes to the office, plays tennis with his friends on the afternoon and comes home always at the same time, but the one thing that he can´t miss is his very own orange juice, served on a small and wide glass waiting for him on the kitchen counter. As i said my father likes to play tennis, and its also a big Roger Ferderer fan.  When he happens to play in the morning he will stay in bed a Little longer and ask me or any of my siblings to bring him his orange juice and stay with him to watch the game, i´ve never though that a simply morning drink could be a very important part of a man´s life. When i called him this morning to ask him why he is so percistent about it, he said that for him is something to start the day and he finds it very refreshing.

 

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Grandma's paintings

The smell of paint and oil is always present at my grandmother’s house. Althought sometimes is annoying, seeing her face painting with entusiasm is worth it. Her inspiration for her art is extrange, she always find different things to make.  Maybe a landscape, an exotic animal or just a representation of what she is feeling could be her next masterpiece. One of her biggest treasures are her brushes and painting materials, she has two sets, one in her house and one in the solarium. The solarium is her favorite place to paint, she can see all the landscape through the huge windows of the room. The solarium is not that big, but the incredible windows make it look spacious and perfect as an inspirational place, there is where she have painted the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. No matter how the weather is, or the time, could be midnight, could be 6 AM or any hour, if an idea for a painting comes to her, she starts making what she loves.  On vacations I stayed in her house for a week, and one day I stood at the middle of the night, and I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and I saw her, with her eyes more open than ever painting a beautiful landscape with many trees, an incredible evening in the sky and a great big river across the woods; I was amazed by her energy at that hour.  Which is my favorite painting? I am never sure of this, but the paintwork that has created the greatest impact on me is a tiger. The painting show all the little details of the tiger, every single hair is painted in the color it should be,  the ears and the jaws are perfectly painted. Bizarre can be a word that describe some artwork of my  grams, one example is her selfportrait, it was herself standing on a dessert with two circles around her representing her favorite and worst moments in her whole life, the bizarre thing is how she refresent herself. Her artwork has never been in sale, she don’t care if someone likes it or not, if someone want to buy it or not, the opinion of others don’t bother her, but she is not dumb, if someone offer her a good price for her work, she would sell them without any thought.

 

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My father's guitar

It’s an acoustic Pearl from 1972. Though it is an imitation from a Gibson from the same year, it sounds marvelous.  Its maple color shines through the piece, its ornaments are antique but unique. The guitar used to have some flowers and doves as ornaments on the side of it.  They were really feminine, that’s why my father took em  out with female varnish. Nowadays he regrets for that, since the doves and the roses, were part of the originality of the guitar, its design. This guitar came to my father, as a gift from my grandfather. However my grandparent did a great effort to buy him that guitar, because of their economic situation the gift delayed several months. As soon as my father received the guitar, he was truly amused and started to play some songs. Time waited, was truly worth it. He learned on it, he practiced and he composed songs with one of his friends. He covered Beatles, Pink Floyd and many rock songs of those years. When my father met my mother on a dance club, he played a song within some friends the same night he knew her. The guitar that played that day was this one. This guitar is something special, above all the guitars my father has, no one compares to this. This one has a sentimental value, and can´t replace with no other.  This guitar has passed through three generations and still sounds amazing. The sounds of the strings are unique, that no modern guitar could try. This guitar was the used as a tool for my two brothers throughout their learning of guitar and now for me.  We always play all together some Rock and Blues at my basement’s house. In fact, we did our own songs as a family including this precious guitar on the instrumentation. Unfortunately, this guitar has acoustic problems. So many years have passed that the use of it, degraded the acoustic box and needs a fix.  We decided as a family to leave it as a piece of collection of my own family.  Though the guitar is inactive and my father misses it,  we would never forget the memories we did with it.  That shiny maple guitar, with some doves and roses missing, is in great part of our family. We did music with it and we will remember every second we interact while rehearsing.

 

 

 

Carlos´s Soccer Ball

Since we were little my parents have always told my brothers and me to be in sports, I had been in tennis, basquetball, dance classes, and more. I had not think about it, but my brother’s sport was mostly one. Carlos used to be obsessed with soccer. All of his childhood was basically with that sport. My grandmother always likes to tell us a story about when he was a baby, and she was watching TV with him, she would put on a soccer game he would suddenly pay close attention, and when she would change the channel, he’d look away or start doing something else. And ever since I can remember my house has always been full of soccer balls, what else could I have expected growing up with 3 brothers. I remember when we were little and I had to play with them, I got really scared of the ball because they would hit it really hard. Anyways, there were some big, some small, and in all the colors possible. But there was one, the special one, a white Adidas ball with black and golden lines that had been sold for the FIFA world cup 2006. I think one of my aunts gave it to him as a gift. He really loved that ball. I remember when we were little, he used to take it everywhere. We could be driving in the car with my mom, eating dinner, or just being at the house, and he would be there with it maybe kicking it, tossing it, holding it or something. He used to go to his soccer matches and when he would get back even if they had lost or won, he would go out and with it a little more time. It is funny to think back at that, considering that Carlos doesn’t play soccer that much anymore, and the last soccer ball I have seen in my house was in my backyard. A dirty blue ball my dog broke.

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