It’s late afternoon in the city center. Employees, shoppers and students are back home so all the bus stops are crowded.
“I should have left earlier” I keep saying to myself. “It’s already getting late, and I don’t want to miss the bus. Next one is when? In twenty minutes? I must hurry up!”
Walking fast in these ridiculous heels is burning my feet, but I’m almost there. “A few more strides and I’ll make it!”
Then, I see the bus coming, and… and it doesn’t halt at all! I take my shoes off, and try to run, but that’s it. I missed it.
Suddenly the sky becomes pitch dark bringing me an unsettling feeling. Would this be a sudden storm? No one should be out right now. Actually, I’m the only one, and I’m standing under a powerful white light while the rest of the streets have been devoured by the darkness.
To make things worse, the freezing wind coming from The Andes is making me shiver all over.
I turn around looking for refuge in the building behind me, and I realize it’s the Synagogue. The entrance is locked and all the windows are blocked up. Somehow, I know that the building is empty, that it’s not safe to be in there. The passengers of the many cars passing by can see me under the bright light against the hate defacement of the portal. I must leave immediately before someone reports me.
Then, I see what I’ve been dreading. Several cars with long guns sticking out of their windows are crossing the nearby intersection.
They are coming for me. I know it, and there is no escape.
Next, a familiar figure emerges from the shadows across the street. Is it cousin Daniel? He looks at me with this calm and sweet smile of his and says: “Come with us.” But I can’t cross with such a traffic and all these lights blinding me.
“Oh, please help me!” I say but he can’t hear me with the continuous noise of the cars.
And then, he extends his hand and shouts “Now!”, so, at his command, I run, reach his hand, and he pulls me toward him.
It’s all quiet now, and I’m safe. His girlfriend is there too, supporting him, as always.
Now we are silently walking into the dark, away from the center of the city.
The three of us, without any other choice, walking in the cold of this dangerous place where we happen to live. Three teenagers hand in hand, surviving. Two wearing heavy winter clothes, and one, barefoot, on a blue hospital gown.
– – – –
“Mami, Mami, you are awake!” says Nati with watery eyes. She is holding my hand and stroking my face very tenderly.
My mind is very confused, but I feel no anxiety. I’m not alone.
“When did you arrive?” I ask with difficulty to talk.
“A month ago.” She replies, laughing.
“You don’t remember, right?. You were either sleeping or talking nonsense to Papi and the nurses. Oh, Mami… You were so funny!”
She can’t stop laughing, and I’m laughing too. Actually, we are laughing in jubilance.
Then, a soothing, irreverent, out-of-place, happiness invades me, and I say: “Let’s dance! Play Aguas de marzo* ”
“English, Spanish or Portuguese? Italian, maybe?” Teases her, who has no patience for maternal epiphanies.
Spotify is on, Nati takes the floor, I just raise my arms, and we dance in pure joy.
It’s the wind blowing free
It’s the end of the slope
“and the doctors say that once the infection is completely clear and you get stronger, …”
It’s a beam, it’s a void
It’s a hunch, it’s a hope
you can get a transplant and be cured!” says Nati without missing the step
And the river bank talks
Of the waters of March
A cadence brings us a promise from a far away place. The promise of a music that goes on, like the seasons,…
It’s the end of all strain
It’s the joy in your heart!
like my life.
*Waters Of March (Aguas De Marzo) by Antonio Carlos Jobim 1972