had always hated the nicknames because he was afraid. When I heard one remembered her grandmother. Grandma always used the diminutive, and each time I called ("Miguelín!") Made him feel small and insignificant. When Grandma died she was surprised at how tiny he was. He remembered a great grandmother, not the tiny old woman who was in the coffin. "Hi Grandma," he whispered, "Now that you're never more be Miguelín, finally now I'm Miguel. Miguel. Miguel. " As he repeated his name, adult full grown he was, he felt important. From that day used nicknames to everyone.
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