Early memories

Hi Its me. Thats what you ever last(a)ingly said when you used to call me. The velvet angelic voice that broke the silence of those lonely winter days. Your voice was standardized a disguise, an invisible coat which disguised many mysteries that collaged into one big jigsaw, which could take aim simply be defined as your lifestory. Although I had been knowing you for a long time, I had neer managed to aquaint with your deepest feelings. Not that I blame you, or me for that there is an old Chilean saying that states that it takes a life to understand a woman, and another lifetime to learn how to deal with her. Like read about memories? admit alsoFlashbulb memoryAs I stand in my bedroom staring at the surroundings, I remember the past measure in which our relationship was fluorishing, when one of your smiles would irrigate my repeal estimate with happiness and comfort. I had been spending a prolonged period of time In Latin America, tour my family. I was anxious to go steady my relatives again, and apart from occasional spalshes of sadness and tears sheded in states of semi-unconciousness you didnt seem to dislike much from my departure. It were those frigid sides of your personality that allowed you to conduct the type of life in which you lived through everyday.This was probably the source why we seemed to get along so well with eachother, we mixed together with the same harmony in which the water from the sea and the sand from the bankshore mix completely different creatures, native of completely different worlds assignment together like a key in a lock. It was a hot damp summer, the last temperatures of the tropics blurred my see, just like the fumes coming from the exausts of the old american chevrolets blurred the animated blue sky that gave a magic atmosphere to this remote part of the globe.I would wake up around 7. 30 to start my morning job. I would distribute rations of bread to the neighbouring houses. By that time the empty streets w ould already be bursting with life. The distant shouts of the vendors in the market place, overcasted by the sound of the jarring traffic, would almost ruin a rythm to the fast and precise movements of the indigenous woman weaving colourful blankets made of Alpaca skin.I would grab some matter to eat, and then I would rapidly descend the stairs three steps at a time, as the small truck sounded the clackson. Roberto was already waiting for me at the back of the truck, he was wearing a brand peeled Guayabera which he said, had been a present for his birthday. When we finished distributing the bread, we would go collect fruit from the jungle, which was a delimiting territory of the region of Pinar Del Rio, feeling like grown ups with our machetes linked to the back of our belt.As the small truck accelerates, I gradually see my little neighbourhood with its palms and markets disappear in the distance, like a sully when mixed with water. The empty and recently built road, melts in wi th the sea and the surroundings giving the passengers on the fomite the impression of living in a surrealist painting. Small drops of sweat fulgidly run down my forehead as a gust of wind blows away a jasmine flower I had picked up on the way, it brings to my mind a wave of memories just like the river brings the detritus to the sea.I lean against a flower traction in the corner of the back of the truck, and you come to my mind again. It was the first few days, I had been guest to this new and alien country. Everything I saw I found peculiar, from the side on which english people herd on the road, to their unusual tradition of having dinner at five oclock. As I stared in the eye of these local people, I could only see ice and a melancholycal emptyness, which I wondered if was their nature or their repartee to my arrival.The first time I saw you I was expecting the same frigid and senseless look, and I was surprise as I noticed none of these elements were present in your look. Thi s was probably the only reason I was so attracted to you initially. Your openiness, and the energy which bursted from the pores of your skin embraced me in a way it was impossible for me to escape, so I resolved to surrender and let me carry away by this flow of positive sensation. I had noticed in you a pinch of shyness which arised only in specific situations and under the tension of certain questions.I was never really sure if you behaved like that because you were curious of me and you were trying to get to know me and my environment, just like a laboratory scientist is curious of the behaviour of their guinea-pig to evaluate their intelectual potential, or because you felt sorry for me and the situation I was imprisoned in. As the the days and months went by, our friendship grew stronger, but as all the good things came along so did the bad things.The cultural differences between us in obstacled our relationship in an indirect way. We could not see eachother very often, but th is abstinence as well as the suspense which grew in between the generation we didnt see eachother, added flavour as well our relationship as well as avoiding it from losing originality. Though at times it was need to see you was immense and hard to revoke, especially when we did not have a chance too meet, it made our meetings more special in a way that I was sure I was not going to experience with any other person.Between the smiles and tears of which gave colour to this past year, I hardly had time to reflect upon how sometime this will have to end. Now in between dream and reality, this humor comes back to me bringing along sadness and desolation. I wonder if you are thinking the same thing in this times I was out of the country. Out of nowhere a hand taps me on the shoulder and a voice says If you truly believe in a moment it will last forever. I immediately open my eyes, and see Roberto smiling at me.Apparently I had been talking during my dream, and he had heard everythin g I had said. His arm approaches me again, and I notice the contrast of his brown skin being burned-over from the sun with the white shirt he was wearing. We had arrived to the jungle one last time my thoughts and doubts rush into my mind, in the lead our little group of kids start working on the first row of palms delimiting the known world from the opaque and intriguing jungle.