In the cold

It was cold.

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Cold as when you cannot breathe, because you feel the icy-like air outlining each of your organs as you inhale and wonder if you will be able to exhale it out again at all.

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So cold, that next to you, you can merely just perceive (it would be too optimistic to say “see”) a slight reflection of black silhouettes passing by, like ghosts. Gradually though, you realize they were indeed people absorbed in themselves trying to make their passing-by as ephemeral as possible in order to soon lie sheltered in a warm environment that would allow them to interact again in a normal way. (As speedy as the delivery of the previous line, just like that.) You murmur to yourself a beautiful Spanish word to describe it: “premura”. A word that you have always found magic, when its meaning involves a haze but at the same time, paradoxically, its pronunciation paces you down as when you put your lips in a soft and gentle kiss.

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The environment? Like a chessboard… No. Like only two cells that hinted at it: black (pitch-black) sky, white floor. “Cielo-suelo blanquinegro”, you love that cacophonous rhyme and as you pronounce it, you realize: “Hielo huelo” the translation of “I smell ice” For a moment you wonder if the ice does have smell, is it maybe your smell? There’s no one else around you to whom you can attribute that smell. Have you become ice? Has ice become you? Funny, silly thought. You smile all the same.

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So cold. (I am sure, by this time, you can already imagine it.)

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But you were still there, motionless, why?

______________Waiting.

What?! What for? (What could possibly keep you there?!)

_____________You didn't know,

________________a fortuitous wait, a surprise, an unexpected turn,

____________________an illusion, a chimera,

_________________whatever, something.

Suddenly, you hear a murmur (completely unexpected, but absolutely yearned for). Is it a voice?! You think: “Is it possible that someone, despite the frenzy (Spanish “frenesí”), is calling out for me?” It seems so!

_______________ —Are you okay, sir?

_____ You cannot answer, but maybe nod.

_______________ —How did you get here? What are you doing here?

_____ You can’t say anything. Maybe you don’t even remember how to speak anymore or even say thanks. “Long story, but I was waiting for you”, you’d like to say.

For a moment it seemed to you that you were merely part of the landscape: the snow, the lights, the Christmas trees, and a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk.

They pull you to your feet. You realize that you have legs. The people around you smile, welcome you, say: “Come, come with us!” They take you. You close your eyes for a moment and smile back.

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A happy self-induced memory to say goodbye to an invisible life.

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* A little homage to all the homeless people that have passed away (and may pass away this year and the following ones) in the cold. RIP