grief

I live in a small, old and very beautiful town that sits on a mountain. It is usually a quiet, safe place to live, with deliciously cold weather and rain almost every day. One of my teachers used to say the only kinds of weather here are raining or about to rain.

This week, however, it has witnessed a great tragedy, where thousands of people have lost their homes and hundreds more are missing or have already been declared dead. Since Wednesday, strong bouts of rain have devastated the cities around here and already more than 500 people were found dead. I am lucky to live in one of the places least affected, but so many have not had the same fortune. It is the first time in my life that I witness a tragedy like this so close to home and though I do not know any of those affected personally, I feel like they might have been part of my family or one of my friends.

I would like, then, for those who read this to spare a moment of thought or to say a prayer to the victims of this great tragedy.

someday, some days

She woke up after a restless night. She'd only slept for a couple of hours but didn't feel sleepy at all. She wasn't about to complain; some days it seemed that just existing was exhausting.

She got ready to catch her bus in less than an hour. The sun hadn't come up yet and the morning was freezing - not that the sun made much of a difference this high up in the mountains. The trick was wearing layers. The bus station was sure to be even colder and the bus itself was not much better (she never did get why they turned on the air conditioning in winter)., but when they drove down to the seaside city the weather would certainly improve.

This was the only time of the day she wished she lived in a warmer city. She usually liked the cold. Preferred it, even, especially to the stifling heat of the town she studied in; but it was too early, she'd slept too little. The tiredness had started to settle over her.

When she arrived at university, her body was still freezing from her home, the bus, too many shadows under too many trees and a chilling wind. Damn. She had forgotten her college was almost as cold as home. Well, no use thinking of it anymore; it was time for class.

Arriving in the classroom before the teacher, she curled up in the chair with a big wool shawl her grandmother had knitted when she could still see well. Now she just had to stay awake throughout the day. Easier said than done...

The first teacher decided to show a movie - the lights dimmed, everything quiet - and she could barely remember what it was about. Something to do with language? The 2 hours passed in a daze where she was either writing ideas for the books she'd publish one day or dozing off in her hand. At last it was over. One down, two to go.

The rest of classes went pretty much the same way and soon she was meeting her friend to discuss the ideas she'd had. She only had to be back home by 8:45 pm, so she'd have until around 4 pm to talk and then would catch the bus at 5:50 pm. It was the perfect plan.

I wasn't.

First, they decided to go to a little cafe a little farther than their usual just for a change of scenery. Then, the heat for which the city is known finally started to become obvious and she hurried to the bathroom to remove a few layers.

Back in their table, the conversation went on as usual until they noticed the time: 4:35! She still had to stop by her father's and then she'd need another 45 minutes to arrive at the bus station!

The walk to her dad's apartment was excruciating: for the first time in 10 years her boots were butchering her feet. When she finally got there, she had devised a plan: put on some flip-flops (anything else just kept rubbing her wounds) and call a cab, cutting the trip to the station short by some 20 minutes.

When the cab finally arrived, it was 5:45 pm. All the chances of getting home on time were over and the rush hour was at its peak. She sit back on the bus and decided to take a nap; she didn't want to think of the cold she'd feel when she dropped off the bus back in her mountainous hometown wearing flip-flops - it was already cold on the air-conditioned bus -, or of the doctor's appointment she'd already missed anyway.

She was out cold before the bus even left the station and that night she made sure not to forget her sleeping pills again.

homage

This first post I'd like to dedicate to my best friend, my sister, probably my soul mate. She has a blog of her own (you'll find it here). It is absolutely brilliant (if at times rather melancholic) and it often inspires me to write as well. Actually, she is the kind of person that I wish to become someday. She's just one of those people, you know, that are naturally strong. She has problems, she stumbles often through life, sometimes she even falls, but she rises again, stronger and wiser and struggles to be happier. And through all that, she remains the best friend I could hope for. Not to mention that - completely on her own merit - she went through school, university and is on the verge of getting her masters degree all while working a regular job that takes most of her day (from early morning to late night!)

By comparison, I can't help but find myself lacking... I am the same age as her and never had a serious job (just some 1-year-long internships) and am still trying to finish university. I'm dependent on my parents and still live with my mother. I've never fallen in love, never took a chance, never tried to make a friend that hadn't came to me before...

All I can do is look at her and try harder.