73 Past Memories

"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime!!!" I heard shouts from three little kids, aged 5 to 10, as they ran toward me in their soiled clothes. "I knew you'd come, but Albert didn't believe it," declared a young boy named Adam, his missing teeth only enhancing his smile.

"It was Michi who didn't believe," Albert corrected, commandeering my cart. Michi, the smallest of the trio, darted toward me and hugged my legs. "Carry, carry," she screamed, her voice an irresistible plea. I obliged, lifting her into my arms and patting her tiny head affectionately.

"Grandpa…Grandpa… Jaime is here," Adam and Albert bellowed as they wheeled my cart toward a crumbling house at the waste valley's entrance.

"Mike," I greeted, fixing my eyes on an older man who emerged from the decrepit dwelling.