2009 has just seemed to be a willful child, play with the ball against the wall and try to get my attention.
I'm sitting at our usual table, trying to read articles that loot to prepare for something, and he throws the ball against the wall.
Bum. Buuum. Boom! BUUM!
I look up, gravely stared at him for a couple of seconds, he understands and turns to look his colored ball, holding it between her hands. He looks guilty, though I would resent me.
The plane rolls to the wall, and she bounces almost without noise, and slowly but surely approaching me, stopping its run a few inches from my foot.
He does not know whether to approach and take it to him or wait until I walk.
After a couple of minutes good, huffing jet around the pen on the sheets, I stretch my back, I bend down and take the ball in his hands. He gets up and has a hopeful smile.
For the past year I had wanted to play, to finally be able to see up close. In 2008 it was a cranky old man with a gnarled stick, and took this exact same shot on a shelf behind his rocking chair. If I approached, pretending nothing, grumbled and waved in the air and swear oaths.
There are all the colors of the world, scattered on the surface of the stupid ball. A game for children, such as what is now approached and extends her hands whispering something. Something I still do not understand, but I feel that I Convenga to listen.
2009 has exactly the air of a naughty child.
I'll take it in my lap and tell him a story.
After all, is what I do best.
