evieroo

I catch sight of an object peeping out from a cardboard box in the far corner of my bedroom. It is a tattered white ball. I gently lift it up with the tips of my fingers. It holds the memory of a dream. A dream that fought the world to become a reality.     Our house was not the most fashionable of places, not even in comparison to the rest of the underdeveloped Rosario area. The creamy wallpaper was peeling, the roof of our kitchen leaked and there was nothing that could counter the mould in our bathroom.  At the age of seven I couldn’t quite comprehend what the doctors meant when they told my parents that my brother was in possession of a growth hormone deficiency. I didn’t understand the restless fear that seemed to haunt their faces. I did not understand that this meant that Leo, who lived and breathed for football, could no longer dream. But, I did understand with absolute clarity that my heart was becoming overwhelmed by the sadness surrounding me. So, I d...