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Pelusita.
A story of love, learning, and eternity between a father and his daughter.
There are moments in life that cannot be described with ordinary words. Moments that are not explained but felt. One of them is the moment a father looks at his newborn daughter for the first time and silently understands that everything has changed forever. That instant doesn't just split life in two—it gives meaning to everything that once seemed confusing. That's how Pelusita was born—not just as a tender nickname, but as the name that held the soul of a new story: our story.
This novel is not simply a chronicle of a child's growth. It is a love letter from the father I was, from the man who learned to live, laugh, fear, fail, improve, and transcend alongside his daughter. It is a sincere testimony that the small moments—those the world often overlooks—a toothless smile, a mispronounced "daddy," a tiny hand clinging to a finger—are actually what shape an entire life.
Pelusita is not a perfect child. Nor is her father. And perhaps that's the most beautiful part of this story: the imperfection that makes us human, the mistakes that teach us, the mischief that awakens tenderness, and the hard questions that reveal deep truths. It's through her eyes that I learned to see the world anew—to discover that fantasy is not a stage we outgrow with childhood, but a way of seeing life with an open heart.
This book is divided into four parts, reflecting the stages of a life shared:
Each chapter is a window. An intimate scene—sometimes funny, other times moving—but always real. I wanted to capture the essence of the everyday, because that is where the sacred lives. In a nap at the park, a bedtime story, an unexpected prank, or a question that shatters all certainty, Pelusita taught me that being a father is not about having all the answers, but about walking with love through every search.
Perhaps this novel won't change the world, but it might change a perspective—the way we see those who still believe in tenderness as strength, in education as silent sowing, and in love as an invincible inheritance. It is for those who were once children, for those who are now parents, or for those who wish to understand the soul of a little girl and the heart of a father who simply wanted to be present.
Today, as I write this story, I know that Pelusita will continue to grow, and I will continue learning from her. But these moments, now written, will remain as indelible footprints of a time the wind can never erase.
Welcome to this story.
Welcome to Pelusita.
— Edward Muñoz López.
— Rosario Muñoz Arcella.
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