When a bird flies over the rooftops of the sunny and cold city of London, you can feel their freedom. Freedom to fly to where you go. I sometimes think that a human has not that kind of freedom in their life. When you was born, your parents are your commanders. Everything is responsibility, there and there. When you are in school, your teachers. When you work, your boss. When you die... well, death. I think my wings are so hidden as the feel of telling my mother; I want to leave, I want to travel, I want to live my life. Or that's what I feel but I do not say.
My father died when I was two years old and I do not have memories of him. My mother hides his photos as if it were a ghost that we have to be scary of. When you live in a large house in the Centre of London, with your mother and a servant, you don't know if you've already died or death laughs at you. It is a huge House, too much for two people. Sufficient bedrooms, Yes, but there is only dust and darkness in them. My mother is young to make a new life, forty-three years old neither more nor less, but was lost in her feelings and memories with the death of my father than her beautiful smile has not dazzled her face in years. I still praying for the right man in the door providing that warmth and happiness to her.
I am writing on my laptop and seeing that beautiful bird perched on one of the roofs of my neighbouring house. The trees are stained yellow and Brown letting me know autumn has begun. They dance with the wind making a simple and amazing dance. I can see how planes fly over the sky of this great city. People coming and people are going. Marco, an Italian resident and Butler in my family for years appears at my door according me the hour of tea. Yes, as a typical English. Five in the afternoon and the te and pasta are on the top of the small table in the living room where my mother is reading the newspaper.
- I can't believe how the world is today. -says my mother without even looking at my eyes.
I sometimes think that if she looks at my eyes she see my father. Supposedly, the two of us had those dark brown eyes that were the only ones in the family. My cousins, Maggie and Elizabeth, have grey eyes, like my grandparents and uncles. Thing strange I would say, but that's life. You are born as you are born, you can not choose. Although if I am sincere at times I want their eyes colour.
- Too lost.
My mother is not that ugly. Her hair is shoulder-length and its colour is between a blonde and chestnut. His eyes are like leaves in autumn, a mix of Brown and green. Her beautiful lips are shaped and perfectly sized. Her skin is white as snow, that when it comes out, her cheeks turn red. She is not so tall or so small. Not too fat or too thin. She is normal. But I, my hair therefore comes to the chest or a little more and it is black as coal. My eyes are dark brown and not too fat or too thin lips. My skin colour is not white, the only thing that gets me red is my nose with the cold and I am short for my taste. Another normal girl in the House.
I served me some tea in my cup and took me two or three pastas that framework had been prepared. That was my day to day. All scheduled, nothing came out of improvise. Until my mother take a small gift from under the table. I was surprised about that, it was not my birthday I knew then what was happening? Why my mother gave me something in a normal day?
- What is the occasion? -I asked.
- Nothing, I just wanted to give you this. You are too disconnected from the world.
I carefully opened the envelope and I suddenly saw one Apple, I looked at my mother wanting her to see my smile for the improvised gift. Why on earth she would give me something like that if mine was already plenty. Although none of those words came out of my mouth. I opened it and was too huge for my tiny hand, but I still liked. I put it to charge and those five minutes were the longest of my life. My mother reading and I, waiting for my new phone to come to life. Until suddenly a white Apple appeared on the black screen.
- Thank you mama really... but you didn't have to.
- New things will happen throughout the days.
New things, I asked myself. I never thought that the word 'new' appear on my mother's mouth. I said nothing. Investigate my new phone, and leave it to charge a little more, I went to the kitchen where Marco was. Leave the saucers and cups in the dishwasher and leaving me to ask.
- Do you know what will happen these days? - I asked.
- No, why?
- Mama has just told me that new things will happen throughout the days - I said as I sat in the kitchen island and taking a donut with jam inside. My Favourites.
- No idea, Miss Charles.
- How many times I have to tell you that you don't call me like that. Call me Cat, just do it.
When I finished that snack, I grabbed my phone and went up to my room. I will describe my room; It is light blue and white. Just enter you can see that there is a huge window overlooking a park. There is a huge drawer where I keep memories of when I was little or tackle. Sometimes I get over it and look at how birds fly. Next to the door I have my desk with my laptop over. On the wall there are two shelves where I keep my books. My bed just in front and beside it a small table with a lamp. To the left there is a dressing table where I have my makeup and jewellery, with a huge mirror. I have a small dressing room, where obviously I keep my clothes. And now, a single room for a simple girl.
I go to my window and surprisingly I see a car outside my house. A men and a young boy come out of the car. Who are they and what are they doing in my house?
