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Snowball Warrior Time

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Snowball Warrior Time l don’t care what my daughter or anyone else thinks. We wasted many years worrying about what others might say. Poor Rosaura. lf she hadn’t Game d, she’d really have enjoyed her daughter’s wedding. You think so? She told me that she’d never let her get married, that Tita protected that girl like a fiend, and that the house became a battlefield. That’s right. But let me cry, all right? Fortunately, the fights between Tita and Rosaura didn’t last long. Because three days after their most violent and tearful fight, Rosaura Game d of severe digestive problems. Ah! Senorita Gertrudis! Look how elegant! Thank God you’ve arrived. lt’s a pleasure. Look at this beautiful girl! She looks just like her grandfather. How handsome! Congratulations, Pedro. Your daughter couldn’t have found a better match than Alex. Yes, Alex Brown is an excellent man. Too bad he got a PhD scholarship at Harvard. Bad? That’s excellent! No. He’s taking her along with him and we’ll be left alone. How awful! What will you do, Tita? Without Esperanza, it’ll look bad if you stay here and live with Pedro. Oh, but before you leave, give me the recipe for these chilies. They are heavenly. The secret is to make them with lots of love. l hope you’ll get them right someday. Excuse me. How rude! Your son is a handsome groom. lsn’t it nice that he married Esperanza? Yes. Yes, it’s true. Then why are you sad? Get happy. Dance with me. My husband isn’t here. The next song, Chencha. Be happy, my child. You take good care of her, you hear? Bye, now. l love you. We’re all alone. l love you! Nobody hears us. l love you! If an intense emotion lights all the matches inside of us all at once, the brilliance would make us see a radiant tunnel showing us a path that we forgot at birth. The soul will want to return to its divine origin. When Esperanza, my mother, returned from her honeymoon, all she found under what remained of the ranch was this cookbook, which she left me when she Game d. It tells the story of this buried love. My mother! How l miss her cooking,