The sins of the Santo (english Version)

1

"It will not be easy for us in San Pedro. We have to prepare for anything, '' my mother said as she sealed the last move box with tape. "I realize that Mom. This city was not considered to be the most dangerous one for nothing." She lowered her eyes and I saw how much she was suffering from the idea of ​​living in such a dangerous area. I inquired a little about this place and found out that almost 476 people were delivered to the clinics each year with gunshot wounds or deadly knife wounds.

You may ask why we go to San Pedro. Well ... you have to know this is not easy for us at the moment. The money for the rent is missing and with the little barista job of my mother we can not cover the costs anymore. After the death of my father, everything just went down the drain and everything turned upside down. Seven months have passed after the shooting in his home village. He had driven to our Abeulita to visit her and was shot dead when he got out of the car. The tears my mother and I had lost since then left only cold hearts and darkened eyes. The mood dropped drastically in our house and the walls became ever narrower. So my aunt offered us a place to stay in San Pedro. It is a house belonging to her neighbor, with whom she has been a good friend for years. In exchange, my mother would take a little care of the old woman and pay only half of the actual rent. I should also attend a school there, as it would take a few years until my graduation. I've never been a bad student ... but the worse at socializing. The thought of having to make new friends there and sharing his private stories made my hair throb. But to totally abstain from social society would give me the title of lone wolf and thus I would be an easy prey for pubescent, young girls who like to revel in rumors and taunts.

"Farewell, dear ones, hopefully you'll find peace in your new home," said old Jerry next door. He stood in our driveway and had my mother in his arms. His plaited, gray braid he had thrown over his shoulder as always and wore the well-known, brown leather boots. You'd think he's a real cowboy.Jerry had been a good friend of my dad for years and always helped out if we needed something. I remember when he sat with me in the apple tree in his garden and told me about his old love stories. He also took me in the arms and pressed a kiss on my forehead. "Take care of little Cataleya. And if you need something, you know where our apple tree stands. '' I had to smile and nodded to him. He put the last move box in the trailer and my mother and I got in. Slowly she drove off and Jerry was getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. So I moved away from the last person from this city who had my trust. The houses passed us while the weather forecast was on the radio.

That will be a long way.