Old men and roses.

I found out today (yesterday, now, because I'm posting this late) that my Tata's best friend passed away.
Chapo, I started thinking about him, we were never close, we never talked, he was just that guy that would sit next to my Tata, in the garage, watching nothing but the air. "Say hi to Chapo" my Tata would tell me, and I would, he was family.
He always wore slacks, a pair of dress shoes, a short sleeve button up shirt (the top 2-3 button were never buttoned) and his huge glasses, which, if you looked at him right, it'd seem as though Chapo had huge bug eyes.

Chapo had somewhat of a garden, or a flower bed at least. Roses grew, beautiful ones. I remember one occasion, when myself and my Tia lili (two and a half years older than myself) were playng hide and seek within the houses immediately surrounding my Nana and Tata's house. I'm not sure who we were hiding from, as it was just us two, perhaps we were on a secret mission?
Anyway, we continued playing throughout Elburg street, we noticed the wide range of flowers growing among the houses, and decided we should pick some for our mothers. We picked a few poppies, some other flowers which I don't remember, and set our eyes on Chapo's roses.

We were good kids ok? So we asked nicely at his doorstep if we could have some of his roses for our mother's, to our surprise, he said yes. He came out, cut us a few roses, and sent us on our way.
Chapo, I've realized, was that guy that would shake my hand, tell my Tata I was getting big, tease me, fix my scooter, and pull a coin straight out of my ear. He'll always hold a place in my childhood, that's for sure.

- "aie mijo, comoestas?" -Chapo

- Ernie