Affair with Life

No country for grown ups

And if today I could move anywhere, I would choose to move into a cotton throw. One that lays always near the chimney. A lenghty, stripped, wool blankie, with a burn mark and a warm, familiar smell. We would hug each other on a wooden chair and wait for the radio to share its afternoon songs.

Memoir extract

June days have come and thunderstorms are passing by in the noon, sending everyone under the embrace of their roofs, moving their thoughts into silent prayers, for everyone to be safe.

I see from behind the curtains how people are rushing.

Watching them closely, I somehow get an early, undefined thought that all adults will end up most of their days like this: rushing from place to place and the only time for themselves is the time to sleep.

Somewhere on one of the future paths, I see myself doing the same although, I do not carry heavy bags filled with broth ingredients, but heavy papers and a mingle of thoughts, worries and plans.

I know I’d have to run somewhere too, but my soap opera educated instinct is telling me I would do it just like those ladies from the movies- on heels and carrying some papers that seem important.

I am walking tall, I have a winged smile and I am going to a place where people will be anxiously shaking my hands, one by one. I know that something is there to be shared between the curious eyes of that gathering. I know that I am the one carrying that something.

Prophecies are not always born on the lips of a fortune teller, but in the corners of our subconscious minds too. Glimpses of future will just bend the present, melting the vigorous walls grown by other people’s predictions.

If I could go back in time, I would tell the little girl to never grow up, or, istead of wishing for heels that will take her places, to wish for roads that will smile at her, people that will greet her with the eyes of a friend and arms to hug her when she can not love herself as much as before.

If I could go back, I would stay longer wrapped in the wavy, orange summer days. I would be amazed of how nights and days meet each other under a purple twilight.

If I could only go back, for a day, a minute, a moment, I would go back to kiss the forhead of my most loving days…

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