I put these lines for you to know that I am writing to you. So if you receive this letter it is because it came to you, if not, let me know and I will send it again. The other day your father read that according to surveys, most accidents occur within a kilometer of the house, so we have moved further. The house is beautiful; It even has a washing machine that I’m not sure if it works or not. Yesterday I put on clothes, I pulled the chain and I haven’t seen the clothes since then, but hey …
The weather here is not so bad; Last week it only rained 2 times. The first time for 3 days and the second time for 4.
Regarding the jacket you wanted, your uncle Pepe said that if we sent it with the buttons on it would weigh too much and the shipping would be very expensive, so we took the buttons off and put them in his pocket.
The doctor came to the house to see if we were okay and put a glass tube in my mouth. He told me not to open it for 10 minutes and your father offered to buy the tube.
Speaking of your father, what a pride, I tell you that he has a new job with about 500 people at his feet. He has been gardened in the village cemetery. Your sister Pilar, the one who married her husband, is going to have a child. If the baby is a girl, your sister will name her as me, it will be very strange for us to call her daughter ‘Mom’. Your father asked your sister if she was sure it was her, and said yes.
By the way, that your cousin Paco also got married, and it turns out that he prays to the wife every night, because he is a virgin.
Who we have never seen here again is Uncle Venancio, who died last year.
And your brother Juancho … He closed the car and left the keys inside. He had to go to the house for the duplicate to get us all out of the car. We all miss you so much, but much more since you left. You have to write to us telling us how your new foreign girlfriend is doing, you don’t know how we were happy when you told us you were in bed with Hepatitis. Is it Greek, because you haven’t clarified it yet.
Well, my son, I don’t put my address on the letter, because I don’t know. It turns out that the last Galician family who lived here took the numbers so as not to have to change their address.