Matthew waved at me

Hello dear reader, I hope you are healthy in every sense of the word, by the grace of god.

Today I thank god for his kindness, Hurricane Matthew could have plowed through Delray Beach and turned it upside down. Instead everyone got a scare for a few hours while staying inside a hurricane shelter at a local high school.

Even though today I have no place too call home, I'm still grateful to be alive.

In my previous letter I started at the beginning, let us continue the walk down the story of my life.

Germany. Back then I felt German, not Peruvian. I spoke the German language fluently and knew very few Spanish words. My mother would call me "Luchito" which is an endearment of my name. Usually if you have the name Luis in my country your nickname is "Lucho". So "Luchito" would be the equivalent of calling me "little Luis".

I loved living there, playing hide and seek, laughing with Mike almost every day. It was a paradise to me, if it was imperfect, my childish view of the world probably was blind to any imperfection during that period of my young life.

Mother would call grandma about once or twice a month, I could tell because she would speak Spanish to her over the phone. I couldn't understand their conversations but I could see sometimes the sadness over my mother's face after the call.

I must've been around 8 years old when mother told me we were leaving Germany to go back to Peru. I was angry, not comprehending that because my mother had divorced her abusive husband she could not stay legally in Europe for too long. She didn't explain that legal aspect to me but I figured it out years later.

What she did tell me was that grandma wanted us both back. I didn't remember her, even asked my mother why couldn't she come to us instead. The answer to my question was that grandma just couldn't make the trip but that we could.

It was the first time in my life I remember real sadness and pain, from leaving my best friend Mike, my school, the neighborhood, the park nearby, riding my bike down the street.

The day we left is a blur to me. Leaving the apartment with our luggage, taking the elevator downstairs, hugging my friend Mike goodbye, getting into the taxi that took us to the airport, boarding the plane to Peru. I recall it as a flash, if it all had taken place in a matter of seconds.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, they did soon after we arrived. I will explain further in my next letter dear reader.

May you walk in the light of God.

Sincerely.

Luis