Letters from Mexico: Nocturne

Letters from Mexico: Nocturne

The night will break free very soon; I can hear the chirp of an early bird deifying the darkness in search for the light. I can’t sleep even when my bed is comfortable, my old bedroom, and this old house,  is full of comfortable memories that  live inside of me, as the best of my invisible genes do. The sound of the morning will come soon and I will have lost this moment, in which I wake up to this night,  to my past and my present, and they both feel melancholically comfortable .
 

There is the garden, the place that as a child I used constantly to play, until the teenage years stole from me that zest of being a simple child who can enjoy the simple pleasures of climbing trees, kick a ball, skate and getting dirty in the mud. Taking me away to the world I have been submerged the last three decades, a world of thought with no reason, a world of traveling adventure and then, the adventure to go further away in search for something that took me to Norway, where much treasures were found, but as I sit here in my table, in my room, closer to the edge of dawn, I hear my son’s breathing as he sleeps, I hear the noises of this house, that I almost know all of them all too well and I feel the presence of those who are like me visiting this summer, and the presence of those who are far away. 

Dad takes the photo from the balcony

Six lives were here, six lives that mean a lot to me, six lives and their descendants that I seldom see, and I, us,  on the breaking point of our adulthood, long gone are the days of our glowing youth, long gone are the days of the careless entertainment  days of childhood, still briefly, we can come back to it all, to the past that forged us, to the home with two parents that love each other in a manner that at times I envy, like a queen and her king, rulers of the past  and rulers of the hope we carry imprinted in our hearts.

The garden calls me soon, when my father will early go out to water his grass and his plants, I want to see him, so I can remember him at this age as well, so I can remember my home like the faithful bird that comes to visit our trees,  knowing well the seasons will continue to change, but as long these walls exist, the nest will  be here, in presence and in absence of those who built their lives around it.

The dawn is here, the light soon will bring me to my present. I am teary but happy.

From Ciudad Juárez, México

8 July 2013