The yellow micro Gonzalo father took them from Puente Alto to center that was always the most important presentation year. Because it was not presented at the Lyceum, to the laughter of many, and admiration of the very few who go out and paraded through the streets of Santiago, with so many people in so many parts you are looking to go through the martial rhythm Peña's stern gaze to not commit any error, because "here do not make mistakes, young people, not take them out for a walk, but to march." The procession of the Virgen del Carmen was an event for the marching band del Liceo Industrial San Jose de Puente Alto, and he, Roberto, this year going forward. Guaripola.
With his mother looking at him in uniform, "more perfect than ever," Robert looked pass the streets as I thought I could not forget the moves. Top, right, forward, back. A hint of nervousness was going through her mind, but then Kathy started hitting the bass drum, scaring them and making everyone laugh. Then he turned his eyes on the street. So Fourteen was familiar territory, but beyond that I could count the times he had gone. I could hardly remember when he lived elsewhere, was very small, and it seemed he had come to life has always been at his home in the Villa Los Peumos equal to those who were near land of identical houses.
had to leave and walk away from the micro to the Plaza de Armas ("Did you bring your passport?" Someone asked, and laughed with his teeth slightly yellow). Were the two recently, and the procession began at four. The sun was strong, but his booming voice Peña knew overcome any distractions for sun and say I expected that lucieran, which had been tested for that week, and prepared all year. Spent reviewing the uniform as he watched those old buildings that looked so strange, so alien, as if it were somewhere else. "Let's see! Stop pajaronas, Perez, and let me start moving!" he shouted in his ear the band director, since time began waving their hands to receive an almost inaudible "Yeah, right" for cards.
While waiting in the sun came out it, one to which her mother called "Virgin" and on whose behalf he blessed every morning when he left. That was its meaning to him, but still saw it go amazed at its poles monumental statue with its beauty, because the party was decked her, but deigned to give him some prominence to these boys come across of the city march to the passage of one, two, one, two. She would go back, reminding the rhythm, telling people who to see. They announced over the lady, flattening the pavement, calling people that came out to look, and pass them strangers for an evening march and received applause martial people would not see.
steady grip the metal stick. I was ready. Broke the martial who asked only to look back and make sure there was his mother, who smiled to encourage him. For the speakers sounded the call for the procession, which was to begin. Peña stared at him, and he put a serious face to let you know he was ready, and make it right. The first people began to march, and the curious who crossed Square looked on with puzzled eyes. He looked around the field of view of the square and turned just in time to hear the "Now" Pena, and then, with the first movement of staff, began to sound boxes, drums, horns and the triangle. Left, right, left.
Doubling the street left behind strange square and old buildings were delivered to the pavement and sunshine, the parade and the sound of the march. Peña, from time to time, I looked to see that is not devolved. And in the first blocks began to appear people who gathered at the sides to watch. Roberto could not help but look away - "Firm and in front!", As so often had shouted Peña to test-to see them. Some smiling faces to watch them go, especially the more elderly people, those who also was always filled with the procession.
And he also saw them as he went. Those faces of large families and blonde, like on TV. In the distance, the buses and cars diverted to make way for them. Well, not them, the Virgin and all that followed. But to them, yes. Along the way martial which never walked down the street. In his eyes straight ahead, rarely looked like their heads down. A posture that day, and perhaps only that day, had a motive to stand, to tell these people and these buildings "here I am." Here I am, here leave, one, two, one two, and she looks and looks at us and smiles.
Their march culminated at the pedestrian walkway. Never mind the heat, the sore feet. Were the cheers, the eyes shining on them, once on them. When the bank and could finally leave the instruments, were saisfechos and laughed. Kathy remembered the tense moment that she almost dropped the stick, and laughed: nothing had happened, only a cold sweat it passed an instant. "Well, well," said Peña. His mother would not let go, saw her smile and could not help more with getting an expression that was not typical, but it was so comforting when you have it. They saw it happen to her, the queen of the feast, and so happy, I felt like Mrs. winked his eyes lifeless.
He took the hand, as mothers do when they are proud, and walked along the pedestrian walkway. I bought a bag of chips they were eating and laughing. Laughing and laughing with the boys as often as they sat two hours in a micro to reach those strange places and walk in gang, laughing, but that laughter could hide the trace of bitterness in their mouths and eyes.
Greetings,
SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
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