Last Day

Walking in the cold felt so invigorating, I treasured up those tiny moments so much… A sad country folk ringing loud in my ears, the mp3 player pinned in my belt banging against my leg. Long strides, my rapid pace follows the rhythm in the traffic, crowded road, to home I head. I wouldn’t mind it started to rain, though this biting cold seems so much better instead. Any night but this afternoon my choice would have being different. Maybe the pavement street will someday be earth again, I step up the slope, the ground is not plain were the tiles are broken. I slip; my head bangs against something, like my mp3 player did against me jean-clawed leg. It’s so cold, I feel warm inside my long black coat, it reaches my knees almost. The young kid cries, don’t feel sad, it’s a lovely autumn day in this winter gray city. The mother holds him to her chest, hiding his face while staring at me. She seems so big, so old, so ephemeral I weep for her. The old man, his in his forties comes down on his knees, I can’t understand why my head is this low on the road, shouldn’t I be level with his shoulder? I was the tallest girl in school after all; we fought so much for the place before last. No one wants to be last. He says something, I can’t hear you… The song is so loud, the voice is muted. He seems worried, afraid, reaching out I pat his cheek.
“Don’t be afraid, don’t be scared… It’s a lovely winter day…” and it all seems to warm up, and the sun blazes over him and me. This warmness in my head feels no more and I’m dressed in a spring dress as I was when I was four.

23/05/2006