A HAND IN THE FOG

XIV

She woke up early. It was not necessary in that specific morning – but she awoke early.

Coffee and bread without hurry as every morning made her feel so calm. Finally a morning to celebrate – there was no clock calling her each 5 minutes.

The climate was very cold and nobody was away from home. The silence on the street was almost magical. She loved this. She looked around her apartment and said the usual joke in real voice – so this is what happens when I am far from here. And the silence inside and some noise outside answered the usual joke.

She smiled to the mirror.

Suddenly a soft sound did her turn the head. It was a call from her friend.

If she wrote a report about that early morning could begin like: Point one – news from the friend.

They lived very far one to another but with the blessed modern technology – they could talk like common neighbors.

When the friend began to tell her what was happening with her body – terrible and dangerous diseases – she remembered Morpheus. Why hell she said good morning for him so early.

And she discovered the hard way that Morpheus demonstrated his power and vengeance when someone does some that he doesn’t like or want. Nobody knows the humor of a God but do not care – it is a real risk.

It was a horrible day. First the news from her friend and after some memories that began to reborn as a film – but a not so happy film.

The friend told about her own body. A disease was developing so fast and the medication was hurting her – so sadness for a so young girl. She fished the style of the phrases: so fast, so sadness, so young. She tried to make a puzzle with the words for her self trying to support the angst – so young, so sadness, so fast or so sadness, so young, so fast or so sadness, so fast, so young.

Of course it didn’t work. Words are only words. Feelings lived in another place. The communication re-born again.

But the worst it was when the friend asked her if she would be cured. She should answer the truth – but who really knows the truth. She just said half-truth and remembered also a poem she loved – a poem about the half-truth.

This was one of her preferred poem during all her life – or better – since she read it so many years ago.

This poem was the reality.

She answered for her – yes, you’ll never be cured – probably. The body can changes a disease. The mind can changes the body and the disease. Nobody knows what happens in fact with a body – a real slave from the mind – or vice versa.

But she cried in front of her when she said this. It supposed to be the strong – but she didn’t hold her tears. Both cried and both smiled. What a way to help a friend – she thought. When they said goodbye – her muscles were tension.

Sometimes nobody knows exactly the reasons of the tears and it was not different for her in that moment. She was not sure why cried with so much pain – maybe because of her friend or maybe because of her self.

In fact a person looks at all persons like it was in front of a mirror.

Almost like just one in the world in front of a millions of images. It is the selfish giving orders. The superego was in command.

But the morning had more to her.

She’d never forget the voice of her friend in that morning. She repeated or asked – she was not sure – with a slow and low voice: I will never be cured.

In the report the next paragraph could be – Point two – News from the Memory.

What a morning.

Because of this situation she remembered immediately when – one night many years ago – someone said some that hurt deeply her.

It was the same sound of her own voice when she answered him. Unbelievable.

She was surprised – the same sensation to be hurt or to be sick. The body and the soul are the same when afflicted. She would think about this someday in the Future – if the Future exists – of course.

It could be comic if not sad – the same sound of a voice.

But she would thank him forever. Forever. He made her understand like a cut of a knife – so cold and without blood in the beginning – her place. Or the place he understood as her place – without a doubt.

During many years after that night she pulled off the Memory this sign of wrong place every time she felt that she was making another mix like that. Or that someone was almost repeating the scene in front of her.

And the Memory helped her to go on without knives or shocks. When she felt that the past situation was coming back like a phantom with a different dress – she went away.

Simple.

She thanked for the Existence much more than for the Life itself.

Tomorrow – she spoke in high voice – it will be another day with so plural and different emotions. And other memories – I hope.

Please, Morpheus, tell me the time you prefer listen “good morning”.

She smiled.

A new message came – he wanted to ask about the next trip if she agreed. She almost told him about fog, knife, memory, place or voice. But said nothing.

Just smiled happy and celebrated the next trip with him. And became immediately to put an X in the days of the calendar. A beautiful calendar he made with his photos. Perfect. and smiled again.

At that moment she remembered another writer she admired so much. The day begins with an emotion and finishes with another emotion. She loved this.

And added talking with herself: the Life stammers phrases and phrases stammer the Life – a real communication.

Advertisements
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: