THE THINGS THAT WE FIND IN OUR LAPS

My father was dead. A year passed and there was nobody watching the Russian TV in his room and yelling "The bandit!" or "'svolochi!" (the bastards) every time they showed Putin, nobody shuffling to the bathroom in a hurry, nobody to talk or laugh with in that special way that we had between us.  My life became smaller again. TV, sleeping and cooking still left a lot of time to grieve and a lot of emptiness. There was nobody to take care of, either.  Hanah, my eldest, was studying Arts in a university in the North of California. Sonny finished High School and tried to get into the Berkeley U., but couldn't. He started his first year at the  Berkeley City College, a Community College. Completing two years of classes there will allow him to transfer to Berkeley U. or any other University of California, provided that he'll have a good GPA. That meant that the kids were, largely, out of my life, car and schedule.  

Dad's absence also meant that we were one paycheck short. It took me a couple of months to realize that I could collect the Unemployment Insurance. It couldn't take care of everything that we needed to do or pay for, though. I had no hope finding a job with my health problems. The idea of becoming a translator also didn't pan out. People finish colleges to do that kind of work. 



E-mail for comments: dinatoyoda@aol.com