Madrid. February, 1942

When his father left the doctor’s office, Charli saw a clear concern in his eyes. He could not help being curious and, by making him leave the office, had put his ear to the door to hear that conversation between adults. “Tuberculosis” had heard. But for him, a boy of six years, that word, that illness did not really know what it was, only suffer its symptoms, more than a cough, that it was clear.

A few minutes later, in the car, Charli could not take it anymore. He knew that betray his indiscretion, but …

Dad, what is Tuberculosis? -and as expected, his father looked between angry and sympathetic. It took a few seconds to think about the answer.

It’s a disease that affects the lungs you, son.

‘Is it serious? I guess taking medicines heal, right? -again his father took a few seconds to answer. He does not lie to your child, but did not want to scare him.

Yes, it’s serious child. And no, there is no medicine to cure … -and Charli’s face darkened so that his father stopped the car in the arcén- But you will be cured, Carlos.

But … if there are no medicines … How do I heal?

With clean air. Breathing pure mountain air.

But we live in Madrid, Dad.

Well, we’ll go live to the mountain.

-When? Where? Charli asked not knowing whether that solution convinced him.

-Sooner. And we will seek a suitable place. No, we look for the best place, especially a big house for all of us in the picturesque mountains that let us see the horizon and breathe the fresh air will cure you.

And where this house is, Dad?

– I do not know, but we’ll find him.

By |2017-10-30T20:04:24+00:00October 27th, 2015|Balzain Chronicles|