When I was six, I only went to school until noon.My Aunt Clara used to pick me up at lunch.She used to wait by fixing her eyes firmly to the students running out thought the gate.At the moment I crossed the gate, she took my hand, and we started to walk.

The walk from the school to the dyer shop, where she worked, generally took about half an hour. It was a kind of family business, owned by my oldest uncle, Harry. There were several possibilities, the best two being through the dire streets or by the big city park. She always wanted to make me happy. She knew I like the way by the park better, so whenever her schedule allowed we took that possibility, although it took a slightly more time than the other way.

The dyer shop was housed in an ugly four story apartment building. It had a grayish color blend from the exhaust of the cars driving before it. The ugliness of the building never bothered me. I knew that in the basement of that drab grey tower was hidden a real wonderland. In the basement was my uncle's shop. They used to dye delicate textiles for the orders of the local high fashion industry. Only Aunt Clara, Uncle Harry and my youngest uncle Roy worked there.

That shop was huge, with long tables covered generally with silk. They used to paint all kind of patterns on the silk. They also allowed me to use the small delicate brushes and the paint too.

I was still tiny. And the wood tables were tall. Of course I couldn't reach it. So, I had to ask Uncle Roy. He always waited for me to use 'proper' and complete sentences before he'd help me. Every time.

After Roy agreed to let me paint, he used to pick me up and hold me by my waist. I would dangle between Roy's hands and the top of the table, untill I gained enough stability. When I felt confortable, my aunt handed me one of the delicate brushes. Then she grabbed one of the little bowls full of paint and held it before me so I could comfortably dip my brush into it. I used to dip slowly my brush into the bowls, then take it out and shake it a little, to take away the excess paint. Of course, while shaking the brush I had to be very careful not to fall down to the floor. Roy would lower me somewhat, so I could reach the surface of the silk and start to paint. Childish roses, and tulips, with big leafs.

I only stopped painting when Roy and Clara got tired.

I didn't miss the afternoon sun. I didn't wish I had TV. I just remember time with wonderful people and my heart fills full of thankfulness.