3 Week Old Baby Will Only Sleep In My Bed A Quiet, Felt Moment – A Short Story For Old Folks Only! (In English and Spanish)

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A Quiet, Felt Moment – A Short Story For Old Folks Only! (In English and Spanish)

“It is late,” said the old man’s wife.

“Every night is late, at 11:00 p.m., midnight, 3:00 a.m. and 4:30 a.m.,” said the old man.

In the nights now, the street outside his window was noisy, and so he read until he was tired, waited for it to calm down, and when he felt that moment, he lay down in bed, he felt the difference. , falling asleep. The neighbors, new neighbors, the store manager selling beer-unlicensed-strangers, all sitting at the corner store, outside on chairs next to tables, leaning against cars, drinking beer, singing songs, making noise, all hours of the night. But he would be woken up, always woken up, by the drunks, the car horns, and the loud music from the car radios. He would be woken many times during the night, besides having to calm himself; and then there was the fat lady with five dogs nearby, she had to take them out three times a night and they ran in the park across the street, into his garden.

“Last week the old man tried to kill himself,” said one of the two drunks sitting on the edge of the curve across the street from the old man’s house.

“Why?” asked his companion.

“He couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“No way.”

“How do you know there was no reason? How do you know he even tried?”

The two drunks were sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, on the bend drinking two quarter bottles of beer, looking at the old man’s house across the street, at the second story window where he slept. There were two other drunks sleeping it under a tree in the park, near the corner, at the bicycle shop, the lady next to the old man’s house, brought her five dogs from her apartment to fulfill her duty, to relieve herself. And they went right to the old man’s garden, where the faint arc light illuminated them.

“His wife takes care of him,” said one of the drunks.

“What does it matter, if he complains about all the noise on this block, he can go back to America,” said the second drunk.

“We’d better get moving before he looks out his window, thinks we’re robbers, and shoots us with his revolver.”

The old man is now looking through a hole he made in his curtains.

“What is it dear?” asked his wife.

“These drunks again, from the store.”

“You’ll be tired in the morning if you stay up all night.”

“I never sleep until you get up it seems these days.”

The old man beckoned with his pistol-shaped fingers to the drunks, they didn’t see him, “a little more and I’ll go back to bed”, he said to his wife.

“Now what are you doing?” asked his wife.

“More drunks and the lady, the crazy one next door, she’s allowing her dogs to use our garden as a toilet again.”

“Please go to bed.”

“They think I wanted to kill myself, Angel, the day a security guard told me so, how stupid, can you believe it, I wanted to kill them, not me!”

“How would they know?”

“The lady with the dogs, she gossips, does things, to get attention I guess.”

“Ho…ool,” said his wife, in a fading voice.

“No fear for their soul, no respect, no blood in their face.”

“I’m tired dear, come to bed, you’re all worried about nothing.”

“They say I got a lot of money, and they want me to go back to America, and they think I stay up all night for no reason.”

“I guess so, but they don’t have wives, you do.”

“A wife would not be good for drunkards.”

“You can’t tell them that.”

“I know. I’m happy to be old. An old man is a rare thing.”

“Not always, he can also be a bad thing.”

“I wish it would be quiet again.”

The old man looked at the park and the church across the street from his window, had pulled back the curtains, then he looked to the left, down to the store, where there were four drunks, all drinking beers, leaning against the cars.

“When will they finish?” remarked the old man, waiting for his wife to say, answer him, and he looked at the bed, she went back to sleep He then looked at the clock it was 3:00 a.m. He would be in bed in another hour and it would be quiet for a moment and he would be exhausted and fall asleep, he knew this, “I guess,” he whispered as if he was talking to his second self, “It’s all about getting old.”

4-17-2009 /dedicated to my neighbors in San Juan Miraflores, Lima Peru

Spanish Version

Feel a Tranquil Moment

“It’s late,” said the old man’s wife.

“Every night is late, at 11:00 at night, at midnight, at 3:00 in the morning and at 4:30 in the morning,” said an old man.

Afuera de su ventana, ahora en las noches, la calle estaba ruidosa and for that he would read until he got tired, hoping that it would be quiet if Volviera and when he felt that memory, he would pull himself into the cam; he felt the difference and then se quedaba dormido. The neighbors, the new neighbors, from the owner of the store selling cerveza-sin licencia-a extraños, all sitting outside in chairs at the tables in the small corner of the store, reclining in the cars, drinking cerveza, singing canciones, making a bulla , all hours of the night. That’s why he would wake up, he would always wake up, because of the drunks, the car horns and the loud music from the car radios. He would wake up many times during the night, for these reasons, apart from having to go to the bathroom; y luego había una pequeña señora gorda de la domo del costado with five perros, she tends that they took out the afuera of their house three times in the nights and they corrected to the garden, which was for the pardo crossing the street.

“Last week the old man tried to commit suicide”, said one of the two drunkards feeling to the sardinel’s son who was crossing the street in front of the old man’s house.

“What for?” asked his companion.

“El couldn’t sleep”

“Why not?”

“There’s no reason”

“¿Cómo es que sabes que hay ninguna razón?” “¿Cómo es que sabes que he even tried it?”

Los dos borrachos sentados al son de acera, abode del sardinel drinking two bottles of cerveza, looking at the old man’s house in front of the street, looking at the window of the second bathroom where he was sleeping. There were other two drunks sleeping under a tree in the park, near the corner, by the bicycle store; the lady of the house contiguous to the old man sacó a sus cinco perros so that their needs could be met, and they went directly to the garden of the old man, where the lights of the arch were dressed.

“Su esposa lo cuida,” said one of the drunkards.

“What does it matter that if it’s about this bulla in his quarter, he can return to North America” ​​said another driller.

“Mejor nos vamos antes ke li mire por su window, y nos dispare with your revolver thinking that are rateros”.

The old man was now looking through the shade he made in his curtains.

“¿Qué es esto querido?” asked his wife.

“Estos borrachos de nuevo, los de la tienda”.

“Estarás cansado mañana si te quedas despierto all night”.

“Nunca llego a dormir de todas formas hasta que tú te levanta, eso parece en estos días”.

The old man signaled with his fingers in the shape of a pistol to the drunkards, ellos no lo vieron, “un poco más y volveré a la cama” él le dijo a su esposa.

“What are you doing now?” asked his wife.

“Más borrachos and the gentleman, that place of the house of the costado, is letting his perros use our garden as they are outside on the new bath”.

“Come to bed, please”.

“They think I want to commit suicide, Ángel, the vigilante of the day told me, qué tontos, ¿puedes creerlo? I want to kill them, not me!”

“¿Cómo lo sabrían ellos?”

“La señora de los perros, ella chismosea, inventa cosas, para llamar la attention me imagino”.

“Ah…ah…” said his wife with a broken voice.

“No tienen miedo por sus almas, no respeto, no tienen sangre en sus caras”.

“Estoy cansada querido, ven a la cama, tú te preocupado a lot por nada”.

“Ellos say that I have a lot of money and want to go back to North America, and they think that they are desperate all night for no reason”.

“Me imagino que si, pero ellos no tienen esposas, tú si tienes”.

“A wife would not be good for a drunk”.

“Can’t tell them that”

“Lo sé. Estoy feliz de ser un viejo. An old man is a rare thing”.

“Not always, it can be one thing too”.

“I wish I was quiet again”.

The old man miró desde su ventana al parque ya la iglesia al frente de su casa, había corrido las cortinas, luego miró al izquierda, down to the store, where were the four borraches, all taking venison, shoved in the carts.

“¿Cuándo van a termina?” recalcó el anciano, hoping that his wife would say something, le respondiera a él y luego miró hacia cama, ella se havi quedado asleep. Él entonces looked at the clock, it was 3:00 in the morning. He would lie back in bed in an hour, outside he would be quiet for a moment and he would be so exhausted that if he fell asleep, he would know it, “I imagine…” he said in a whisper, as if he were talking to yes mismo, “…que estas todo sobre envejecer”.

April 17, 2009 / dedication to my neighbors in San Juan Miraflores, Lima Peru

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