It must’ve been 1987, because I think I was six years old.
I remember the atmosphere like it was yesterday, although I’m foggy on the details — I was so young.
The essence of that atmosphere was the scent and feel of recent, heavy rain.
I honestly can’t tell you whose house we were in, but I do know we weren’t in Natal (now called KwaZulu-Natal, and where one of my aunts lived). …
Our baby will be born any day now. The official due date was March 12, although we’ve been anticipating labor for the last three weeks.
Germany’s COVID-19 cases spiked around February 27.
I have to go shopping today. I’ve been avoiding it for days, but there’s no denying the fridge needs to be filled. …
I was five or six years old, holding the Christmas tree lights cable in my hands. “Get back from that Christmas tree, Paulo!” my poor mother yelled, terrified.
We had been to this rodeo before.
She laughed nervously. “Yes, yes,” she said to my aunt. “He shocked himself just the other day. But you learned your lesson, didn’t you, Paulo?”
“Yeah, mom,” I said, dripping with all the confidence of youth. “But this here box thingy attached to this cable can’t have any electricity in it, can it? If I just stick my finger in — ”
Sticking fingers into wall sockets was my thing. …