Some travel vignettes, after, "Still in Ludwigsburg." (Nothing in order)

Three years of a honeymoon. How lucky we were. Travelled every chance we got. In 1989 for Christmas, we went to Berlin , where you grew up, where your educated mother was a Truemmerfrau- Rubble lady, picking up the stuff destroyed by the war. We went to your old apartment which you grew up in still without absolutely any amenities.
We visited your brother, conceived in a potato cart drawn by Russians, which you still remember, G. Tu madre was raped by one of the Russian soldiers. He still does not know it. After he was born, you were asked to go get milk at the age of five and had to dodge American airplanes trying to bomb you.
When things got a little back to normal, you were all still poor. Three children.
Two of you were Karl's and P has an unknown Russian father.Pilar did not have any money. Doing the best she could, she made a dish with peas, kartofflen and  basically pure fat with very thin pieces of meat. You would not eat it. She took a frying pan to your head, but I doubt she really did it. She just wanted you to eat.You brushed your teeth with apples from a farmer's orchard.To this day , you do not have any cavities or fillings.
Soccer was your life as a boy. Your friends and you played next to a farmer's
garden. When the ball went over the fence , one of you climbed it and somehow wrecked his garden a little. He kept the ball. As little boys, you were all mad, so you took out your jackknifes, cut around the top of his pumpkins destined for the vegetable market, did number two inside and then closed the cover.
When you were much older, Pilar asked you to go get some bread at noon. You came back three days later. I hope that time she really took out the frying pan.