My grandfather started calling me "Si abogada" when I was in high school, maybe even before that. He was very kind to me. When I was a child, he'd give me loose change (he'd dole out rolls of those big Peso coins) and candy. He'd make the grandkids line up in his room and he would dispense the goodies in a very egalitarian fashion. Which was a really good way to teach kids about fairness and order. So I'd simply go back to the end of the line and go again. He didn't seem to mind.
He'd tell me stories about the giant turtle mounted in his study and the books that lined its walls. He'd tell me about the time he was a judge. It's a shame I didn't pay more attention to those stories, I was always trying to score more candy.
As he (and I) got older the candy supply dried up. Visits were now more structured. I just didn't barge in his room looking for treats. We'd go in as a family and say hello. When it was time to go, I would reach for his hand to make mano and he'd pat my head and whisper, "Si abogada."
He didn't get to see me become a real lawyer (he passed away while I was a freshman in law school, a few days shy of his 102nd birthday), but it never really mattered to me. I'd been his abogada a long time.
No comments:
Post a Comment