My name is Karla and I have a Bachelor’s degree in Media Communications.I’m originally from Mexico but in 2006 I moved to Singapore and In 2011 I relocated to Vancouver. I’ve worked at the Embassy of Mexico in Singapore and at the Consulate of Mexico in Vancouver; this experience has provided me with the opportunity to interact with a diverse multicultural group.Although I’m not a professional writer, writing has always been a very important part of my life.
My father’s hands
My father’s hands were always warm, his skin was light brown, his veins were prominent and he had a mole on his right hand.
My hands have always been cold, so he used to hold my hands to make them warm. It’s weird how that simple gesture always made me feel safe.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when his hands became colder. We drifted apart, his hands stopped holding mine.
I forgot about his hands until the moment when I saw him lying on a casket. As tears rushed through my eyes, I couldn’t stop thinking that those hands that once were warm would be cold forever.