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Patri nostri, qui estis in caelis

I just learned, thanks to last post _olika_ , that today was (and I say "was" because for most of you it is day 11, ie the commemoration of the 5 years from the 11-S, the festival in this nook of the Peninsula where I and, more importantly, Xavi's birthday) the day World Suicide Prevention . Incredibly, soon will have to make the year longer, if you want to keep making up "holiday" as is, or type "International Day of Burgers guzzling" or "Day of the short-legged." "I can believe that there is Day Pain? And the other on, literally," Overcome Extreme Poverty? What does this mean? What we take to the streets armed with bats and other malicious tools and ENTAM with the first poor we see sleeping on cartoons? What nonsense! "And when a party dedicated to Bored Receptionist or sleepless nights? Surely the latter is aimed more people than the "no snuff" or "no car."

Anyway, this was not what I wanted to talk today, so let's leave it as a curiosity or a cheerful way to start this post. Or, of course, as a plausible explanation to state that I have been engulfed most of the day. Living with my parents again, if only for 10 days, is one of those challenges would confront those who pride themselves on daring and panties in tight situations. Only 4 days are in Catalonia, one of which (yesterday) was fully occupied by the wedding of my brother-in-law, but they've gotten, both my sister and my brother and I, we're about to ask armed intervention of NATO or we go up, and not by walls but by roofs, porches, lampposts and other places impassable. As I said somewhere, not that we get on bad or that it really negative feelings between us, in fact there is no doubt in appreciation that we profess and most of the time, until we want. Seriously, you can not wish for a more attentive and concerned relatives by progeny (only tell you that today, when I left work at 7 am, my father was waiting to take me home by car ...). Now, another thing is the coexistence, which, as you can imagine, becomes the most complicated, full of folds fragile, flimsy, that the minimum crack and result in the fiercest battles. Criticisms, tensions, truths that never shut up (if anything we can assume is that we are a family hypocritical), follies of all kinds, opposing moral ... Too many things to try to offer a plausible consistency or, on appeal, finding a solution not be expedited. The distance, so far, seems the most reliable and useful method to avoid the fighting, although not yet achieved the disappearance of the differences: the proof is these days. Moreover, one can not get divorced from their parents as well, always just missing him and feeling bad about yourself, so more often it is the end returning to the fold and try to smooth things (although they continue to give us headaches and never end up disappearing altogether). Come on, that we are all made to the mold of May 68 and are able to write a "Letter to My Father."

Yesterday, at any rate, I must admit it was a memorable day for several reasons. When I arrived at work I was pretty disappointed lack of energy and empty of optimism, a state which, as already suggested, accompanied me during my sleep and much of the afternoon. Now, however, more clear, I look back at the wedding of the brother of my brother as one of those times when my parents not only knew how to rise, but far exceeded all expectations. And, after several complaints to those already we are accustomed and a louder voice than the other, we surprised us when the time of the shindig. The DJ (or a DJ ") had begun loosely, undergoing tedious presidential table dance games that made us fear a night rather dull, and delaying the onset of collective revelry. Within an hour, however, things changed considerably and so unexpected, that became an Ibiza nightclub, waltzes and paso dobles first hour were replaced by true anthems of the holiday as "Paquito el chocolate" " That stop, "" The Yellow Tractor "or" legalization "and everyone went crazy (maybe that too had something to do the open bar). Suddenly, they began to form couples and everyone seemed strangest of all friends, toasting the future of boyfriends, getting together to make the train throughout the room and promising events that surely will be postponed until eternity. Anyway, the thing is that what became, in a flash, in a chaos, and that in the midst of all this rampant pack, were my parents, carried away by the rhythm of the pachanga, screaming "Legalize, legalize, Le-ga-li-za-tion! " and responding to suggestive choreography "Paquitou." The best, perhaps, came when the click was decided to drop the inevitable "Opa" from his repertoire, that horrible song whose chorus is more catchy than that, conscious of its rusty nature but determined to tease us, my father repeated insistence when we pass by the house at that moment, however, had buried the hatchet and we all ran next to him, jumping up and shouting the orangutans and face , vehemently and good humor, "Opa, I ways a ring!". Moments like this, certainly outweigh the many disagreements that mark our day to day.