A HAND IN THE FOG

XVIII

She stopped for few minutes all the organization and looked at the floor.

It was as if the time had turned ago. She didn’t understand why – but the memory brought an image or a situation from her past so objectively.

She remembered one night – so many years ago – when she still lived there.

On that distant night she was alone in the living room and looked at the floor as a glance.  It was a hard time and she became to write poems. Many. Only poems. All free time she wrote poems.  When she suddenly looked at the floor in a moment she stopped to write – it was almost a big insight. On the floor many papers where fall down. Many. She saw all the papers with the poems that she wrote – maybe a way to survive – on the floor.  She smiled sadly and thought: maybe is me there.  She remembered that for some minutes she was paralyzed just looking at the papers with her poems – but she didn’t move. After all she decided to stop writing and went to sleep.  Sometimes an insight needs more dark and silence than light and sounds to solve or understand what the senses bring.  Only in the morning she picked up the papers and stuffed in a drawer. And they were there for years.

Many years passed away.

Life changed. She changed. Time changed.

The feelings changed. The smile changed.

And a fog and a hand came after a musical and a concert.

Now she was looking at the floor of the new home.

It was night – she was alone.

She was very excited with the trip. Next week they would be together and a new time would begin. So many hours inside a plane – but she didn’t care. Much more than hours would wait for her. She was quite sure about this. In the first meetings was as if they were tight encounters. Now it was different – they felt a sequence after they were separated like an hifen. It was a delicious sensation – because they know each other and the style of thinking and act of each other – with intimacy. That was the moment she looked at the floor and remembered the past – when she saw all on the floor waiting for a space – gifts – clothes.  She smiled. In the past the papers with poems – like her – had an important Time but not an important space.  Now looking at the things on the floor she knew that the things – like her – had an important space but the Time – at this situation – it was not numerically evaluable. It was true – all changed inside her – as should be the real changes.

At this time she had a new and pleasant insight. And at this time she didn’t want to sleep.

She discovered that much more than clothes a suitcase carries dreams.

And of course – different dreams when goes – from the dreams when come back.  Since the moment she began to separate objects to the suitcase to go – she could see like a background scenario – his face in the airport at the moment at the meeting. She could feel his hands on her. She could relax in his hug so strong and soft. She could feel the delicious smell of his kiss. They would talk about trivialities on the way to get the car – but with the arms touching and hands by hands. She would look at his face and would smile so happy. And during the journey from the airport to home – the joy of being together again was expressed in caresses on the skin – as if to make sure of reality.

He would put the suitcase into the car and after on a delicate chair into the beautiful bedroom.

An open suitcase not still organized – seems as if the suitcase was a rehearsal of an orchestra – isolated sounds trying to make a symphony. Each shirt or each sandal looked for the partnership to compose the correct combination.  It was funny. It could happen in the beginning – because after they were together the values changed fast. Nothing could be more incorrect. She doesn’t care – he doesn’t care. Clothes and shoes could not be found in the middle of a sudden mess – only their desires and happiness were in the right and correct way.  The rest – it was just the rest.

And finally they would be together once more. And the beautiful bedroom would be the true image of the meeting.

She learned one new more lesson – there is a huge difference between dream and fantasy. Dreams become in reality most of the time. Fantasy – never.  Dreams are for sharing – and can not be changed. Fantasy is selfish – it is just for one person – the other is just a complement – and can be changed.

Delicious Time. Delicious Life.

At this time she apologized to the Universe and said – thank you Reality.

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