A HAND IN THE FOG

XII

It was a fantastic trip. Something worked different. He was different. He was happy and more relaxed. She was so excited and full of joy.

They decided for that meeting so fast and she organized her job to be absent for more five days. He did the same.

Five days.

But in all stories a parenthesis must be addict. At this time the parenthesis could be called movement. The plains in a paper are very different of the plains in reality. Reality, for sure, love plains because can change and play with dreams like a chest.

But she never realized this. She understood much more from dreams than from realities. Much more than a style it was her structure. Of course she lost many times in her life because of this and cried – but structure is like a zodiac sign – impossible to change.

No direct fly – one connection. It didn’t matter.

Both were touched for the chance to meet again so soon – and it seems that they could accelerate the time if they finished fast the protocols. Something like this.

So there was the parenthesis. Nothing is ever time and hours. The flight was late. The connection could be lost and all the plains could be changed. She was really worried but trying to pretend calm. Inside the plane she was obvious absolutely sure that there was nothing to do.

The plane arrived. Just twenty minutes to be in front of the door to the next plane.

She ran. Ran. Ran. A metro. After the metro – ran. Ran. It was an unbelievable marathon to get a plane. But first she should show the passport. A woman sit behind a glass with a tired face was so professional. She read each page like never had read a line in all her life. Calm – so much calm.

She tried to breath and to control her self to not break that glass and get off her passport when the woman said – ok.

She ran. Ran.

Finally she was in front of the desired door. Five steps more and she was it into the plane.

She won. Almost died – but won. Close parenthesis. The Reality at this time lost the game. She smiled.

He was there. A smile. He opened his arms and for some minutes they were hugged as if the world had stopped. No voice. No movement. Just the hug put their bodies so close.

They were together. That was the message from the body and from the emotion. They were together. For five days the time was on their favor. For five days the space was real. For five days they could feel each other by the skin. The five days were working like a good parenthesis. She smiled again – nothing is totally bad or totally good. Everything changes.

Time is special when the skin recognizes the skin. The pleasure is inside and outside but in such particular way that only the hands can draw the feelings – and only the feelings can translate the hands. This is what changes the Existence in poems and the poems in Life.

For five days they smiled. Loved. Cooked. Ride. Kissed. Hugged. Talked.

It was delicious.

Little and common situations were wonderful points of satisfaction. Go to the supermarket. Buy the dinner. Look around to find the car. Feel the sun inside the opened car. Tell jokes. Listen music sit on the living room. Lost the key. Say ciao for his home when entered and went away. Burn the food for the dinner’s friends. Smoke cigars. His surprised eyes every time she smoked with him. And all with hand in hand. Fantastic. Delicious.

All with so much care.

At that time it was their fifth meeting in less of one year. The long distance prohibited the spontaneous physical meeting. All should be planned. But they made measurements jokes about nine thousand, nine hundreds and forty- three kilometers of distance between them and tried always to change numbers in touch.

They felt so close – as if they knew each other for all their entire lives. They knew their own stories, their lost and missing and their smiles and tears. They knew the reasons and the fantasies. They knew about justice and injustice. They knew about Life and Death – Eros and Thanatos. They knew about solitude and sharing.

Both learned that the Life could be – sometimes – so short and so long. Sometimes.

She remembered her age when some people looked at them. Yes – they were not exactly teens in love. They were adults acting with the right that seems only young people could have. The love is for young people – like an inscription on a flag. She smiled. And when she kissed him in a public situation with noise – he beg her not to do this. And remember her again about the age.

But in fact – both do not care about flags or inscriptions. She loved this.

After those five days – she needed to turn back to the same nine thousand, nine hundreds, forty-three kilometers.

She felt his cold hand. He felt her sad way of looking. Time to say goodbye. Ciao home. Ciao.

She would never forget that scene.

They were sat at the kitchen. The suitcases were readies.

He hold her hands and said – lets plain our next meeting. It will make us stronger and put in a low level our sadness for the farewell.

And in front of the boarding room – much more than a hug – they hold their bodies.

Next month we will go to a wonderful trip. Lets follow the strange line of the Destiny – of our Destiny.

Before cross the line she looked back. He was there waving goodbye for her. There was no fog at that time. And she was sure she would meet him again – he was waiting for her.

Inside her handbag it was the first book he gave to her in that so distant afternoon in that little city. But she didn’t tell him.

The noise stopped.

Both were fascinated with the meeting. She came. Finally we met each other my dear. Come to drink a wine as we always planned. He will cook for us – as we always planned also. He smiled happy. Thank you Destiny – if you really exists – thank you for make such excellent job for us. And she began to talk about changes and Life style. The dog barked. She understood all about Destiny.

But much more would happen.

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