Good day for goodbyes
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I got an email from my mother. She’s talking in it of little everyday struggles, like cats hiding under the bed and card playing with her friends. And I am here, reading what she writes, the few lines that sum up her life, not being able to adjust to what she says as I were just taking a trip. She is lonely and I can tell. Just a few words and caps strategically positioned. She is lonely and getting older day by day. But you know how it is, some families are not meant to be together. Faces disappear one by one till there’s nobody left that wants another portion of dessert. How to make your mother understand it’s a farewell, not a goodbye?
Today the usual weather changes. From sunny to rainy and all over again. And the fog in the early morning. You get to know people, somebody you can learn to trust, and when you’re starting to think you’ll have a whole life together, it’s time to say goodbye. In the fog and in the rain. Or simply in a dull kind of weather that’s not as romantic as it should be. And you cannot really tell why, but everything takes another hue, and shades are other shades, and sunrays are cold and watered down, like they’ve been drowned in some kind of sticky substance. The voices of the neighborhood are deprived of the expectation of a familiar knock on the door; they’re just voices, distant, unknown. Children play in the streets because it’s too bright to tell them the Boogeyman is coming for them – what sort of Boogeyman would walk around like this, not looking scary at all, just clumsy and silly? And I cannot point out where or how, but I feel a little spot of uneasiness that’s been bothering me all day, when I sat on the table of the cafe and when I started making dinner and when I was simply trying to spot cats on the streets. But cats, bless them, are always a good cure for aching frenzies of any kind.
I’m not sure why, but tomorrow is another day and there are still chances for me or for anybody. Things keep on getting soiled by life, people keep on aging though they won’t admit it, cats will eat furballs and then vomit them again and again. I don’t know if I’m feeling well. In fact I could be feeling very bad, because no place is really home. So much beauty around you that doesn’t let you get closer even after a lifetime. You’re a stranger all the time. So little time and so many things you don’t even have the time to notice. I’m not sure why, but things keep on going on.