watch the flames burn:a story

Watch the flames burn

Cristina Molina Campos 4ºB

Sometimes we are said beautiful things...“This is the greatest day of my life”.

“I will never love anyone like I love you”.“Thank you... thank you for being part of my life”.

“I won’t forget you, I promise”.“I don’t care about anyone else, I care about you right

now, and who cares about the future... because at this exact moment, I’ve got you and you’ve got

me”.“I’m not saying goodbye. Not to you”.

“I love you”.

But I don’t think people believe that one day, everything can just

disappear. Disappear like smoke after a smoky and damp dawn. Just leave, go away.

Neither did I.

And here I am... holding my husband’s hand, holding it tight. Our children quietly whispering. “I’m bored”, “When does this finish?” And I think

I’m going to explode. Soon, desperately. My husband looks at me, “Are you okay,

darling?”, he asks. How does he dare to ask me if I’m okay? Nothing makes sense. I’m just at a funeral, surrounded by the people that are

supposed to love me, my family. But the only thing I am able to do is crying... crying for the

person that is being buried right now in front of my eyes.

A friend. An old friend. An old close friend. That’s what I’ve always said. That’s what I told my husband the day I

met him, when he asked me who the young man of photo I used to carry in my wallet was. But for me, he

never was just an old close friend. Now, dressed in stupid black clothes, I can’t even manage

to blink my eyes. Tears fall from them, making everything so faint. I am watching him die... he’s

already dead, though. I’m just killing all my memories while his body is going down... down into the ground.

Underground.

What made him special? That’s a good question...

“Good morning, my love”.

Back to the times when we were together. That day, that early morning, those incredible feelings. The way he stared

at me, saying the words he used to repeat, “You’re so beautiful”. I never believed him, though. I just answered with a smile, but just because he always told me that my

smile was truthful.

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I remember all of them, actually. And I remember the conversations, talking about nothing special

sometimes, and talking our hearts out others. We didn’t feel love, we felt each other.

I still feel the breeze by the sea, and the hugs to give us heat. To make us feel warm. The quick

kisses on my nose and the laughter afterwards.

The way his eyes shone... I promise I haven’t seen a pair of eyes like his again.

And, of course, I remember the thunder and lightning that hit our lives... and how we were

forced to take different paths. I sometimes wondered why, but when you really love

someone, you stop caring about your own happiness...

to start thinking about theirs.

“My love, the funeral has ended. Time to go back home”, says my husband. “Hurry up, the children have to do to their

homework, and we have an appointment with the dentist, remember?”.

I look at him, tears slowly falling from my eyes, and instead of nodding, “I think I’ll stay longer”.

He seems to understand, he’s always done it although he’s never admitted it. He’s always known he’s not the person I’ve loved

the most in the world. That’s why he tells the children to go to the car, because mum has to do something by herself. I watch

my family disappear, heading to our car, and I turn right in order to see all the flowers lying on the cold brown ground.

“You’ve left me quite soon”, I think. “This wasn’t in our plans”.

I cry. I cry a lot. Nobody would understand me... I’ve got a family, a husband I love and two children I’m completely passionate about. But that’s about it. I don’t have fun, surprises or midnight kisses in my life. I don’t have the person I would have liked to spend the rest of my days with by my side. He’s not holding me close, or slowly

kissing my neck. He’s gone. No more opportunities.

We ran out of time.

I wish I could hug him just one more time, at least I could smell him again. Oh, how I loved getting home after an afternoon with him and feeling his smell on my coat. And how I miss it.

I wish he were here. And the worst part is that he is actually here.

I kneel before the flowers. And almost without realising it, I start saying goodbye, something I

didn’t do twenty years ago. I raise my voice... and deep inside, I know he’s

listening to me somehow:

“I’ve learnt something from you. Something big, huge. Beauty is not a body; freedom is not

choosing what you want to have for dinner or the dress you want to buy. Sadness doesn’t

mean our lives are terrible, and happiness is not always meant to be lived with a smile. Love is

not saying ‘I love you’ as well as loving someone is not kissing them all the time. Rainy days don’t kill you, and the sunny ones may not be always

cheerful. Goodbyes shouldn’t exist, and promises don’t have to end in “Forever”.

Do you know why I know that? It’s because you taught me those things. You made me see what life is about. I saw

beauty in the landscapes we drew with our fingers, those skies we used to stare at. Freedom was running faster and

faster early in the morning after a long night wandering around town with you. Freedom was talking to you about our

dreams, too. Sadness had a meaning with you, a powerful one. We looked at each other’s eyes when we were sad... and

yours seemed to be bluer than never before. You know, as they say, blue is the sad colour. But, however, we found happiness in that bluish life. Love was... it was not just

holding hands and cuddling up with you. It was feeling every single word. And yes... I also learnt that a kiss under the rain with you was better than any other kiss under the brightest

sun with anybody else.

And although goodbyes are not fair, and although life isn’t either, sometimes, and you have also

taught me this, we have to let go. And I’ll always remember the day I let you go. And how it hurt.

But after all this time, if I had to choose the best part of having shared my life with you for the

time we enjoyed each other... it is that, if I could repeat it all again, start all over, I wouldn’t let you

go this time. I would fight for you. Because true love... true love only happens once...

And, honestly, you were my true love”.

I stand up again. I take a look at those flowers for the last time.

I almost feel his hands holding my hips like when we were seventeen. His voice at five a.m. on

the telephone, and his fingers drawing a smile on my face.

“Honey, we’re waiting for you”, my husband shouts from the car.

I know it’s time to go, come back home, live my life as I’ve been doing for the last twenty

years. So I start walking, leaving the graveyard and reaching our car. I dry my own

tears, and slowly, I start smiling.

The reason... Well, the only reason I smile right now

is because I’m sure of one single thing:

I’ll teach my children how to never let true love escape from their lives.