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Wednesday, March 31, 2004
The Return
by Rafael Rodríguez
Oh, Maria, you just passed in front of my parent’s house. After twelve years, I came back again to see everyone. Throughout all of these years, I have been in New York. Today you passed by without looking at me; you did not even look this way. Maybe because you thought that I was not here. You appear to be the same – your wavy hair, your puckered lips, and your natural beauty. You are the same. I remember when you and I were innocently playing. When we were fifteen, we shared our first kiss. Yes, I remember you hiding between the bushes and me following you around. Then, we innocently embrace one another.
Every morning, on horseback, I used to pass in front of your house. I always saw you looking through the windows. Many times you would give me a smile and other times you threw me a kiss. Your smile and your kiss would stay with me for the rest of the day. At night, I used to steal flowers from the neighbor’s garden and throw them through your bedroom window. During those times, I acquired pure and transparent thoughts that settled on my spirit. I learned to love and to appreciate the natural beauty of the countryside. I remember the starry night, in which we walked together under the infinite sky, walking silently, you holding my hand and I with your soul in my heart. That evening, while we were walking, it started to rain. We ran together feeling the warm water of the Caribbean. We arrived to your house, while your parents were sleeping. You kissed me and told me goodbye. I still remember that night with you in the rain, whenever I see water falling from the sky. I also remember that same night when I put the red carnation in your hair. Later on, it withered and fell on the ground.
In my mind, I still have a picture of your honey colored eyes; those sweet eyes that always looked at me with the tenderness of an angel. I used to see myself in your eyes. I was lost in your eyes. You always blushed when I looked at you; it was the blush of an innocent child.
You used to love to see me riding horses. I always galloped quickly, when I passed by your house, just to hear your lips saying, “please, be careful”.
Some of the things that I miss the most are the games that we used to play during the evening under the leafy trees and the stars. I want a piece of that marvelous sky in New York City. Also, I want the trees, the rain and the air of pure world in which you and I lived.
The night before I went to New York, you were crying so much. I promised you that I would return. You were waiting for me, but I started to study literature and politics over there. You know that I always liked to read poetry to you. I remember that you would cry when I wrote something about your lips and eyes. My life in New York is different. We do not have the trees, the sky, or the air of the Caribbean. However, the thing that I miss the most from my country is you. You are what I miss the most. I miss the innocence of those days: a clean kiss and nothing more, a smile without a single bad thought. I cannot find your eyes anywhere - not even in the pictures of a child, not in the petals of a rose. Nowhere can I find your voice, not your lips, not your hands. In New York City, I cannot find neither you nor your world.
Everything has changed for me. I know that you think that I am someone different, that I have forgotten about everyone. No, Maria, I haven’t forgotten those beautiful moments of my life. They will go with me to the grave. The readings of Baudelaire, Sartre, Kant, Nietzche, Kafka and the others produced an intellectual metamorphosis in me, however, my emotions remained untouched. I taught in a high school and in a university in New York City. You never paid attention to books. You always preferred to play with me.
I have tried to live a decent life, as you dreamt for me. I became a teacher. Sometimes when I walk through the streets of New York City, I see the scorn on the faces of the people. I ask myself why did I exchange this world for the other one. Everything seems so absurd that I dream of returning to the land of my birth to live forever.
You walk with me on the streets of New York City even when your body is here. I carry you in my soul, on my mind. You cannot imagine how difficult it is to live being haunted by your phantom. When I saw the snow for the first time, I immediately imagined you. I wanted to play in it with you. I thought that you would be just as surprised as I was. Sometimes, I see things through your eyes. The streets, stores, buildings, trains and the noise of the city all seem to contain your face. Others cannot see you because they have never lived in your world the way I did.
When I went to the university, I always imagined you being there with me. One day, in a literature class, I read in a beautiful manner because I imagined that you were in that room looking at me and listening. But I realized it was only a dream, when I did not feel your kiss on my cheek.
The first time that I saw the Statue of Liberty I did not feel anything, perhaps because the statue represents a way of life opposite of my own. I was surprised by the buildings in the city, but I more surprised by the absence of trees and flowers.
Today I appear to be a different person, but inside of me I still love this world. The air is different when I breath, the sun warms me as if it were welcoming me for the first time. There I never felt like I was in my world. Today, even here, I feel like a foreigner. However, I am in my home country. You passed by without seeing me. The other guys already passed by too. They have children. They said goodbye to me, but it is no longer the same. I came back thinking that everything would be as it was before, that no one had changed. Time kept passing after I left. I thought that time would have stopped, but now I realize that was only my dream.
Now everything is different. If I return, it will not be the same. I discovered that new houses were built on the ground under the tree that witnessed our first kiss. Our friends no longer smile in the same way as they did before. Earlier today, tears were running down my face when your cousin Miguel’s child asked him, “who was that man?”. To return and begin again, no, I do not want the pain. I left this world behind and built a new one. I do not think that I have the strength and the courage to destroy my new life and return to this one that is no longer the same.
Maria, I do not know if I should visit you. The pain would be too immense if you treated me the way the others did. Juan told me that you married Pedro and that you have two children. I returned to reencounter my world, but all I find is pain. I do not want to return to New York, but I believe that there I can dream of all of you. Today I am leaving, Maria, without saying goodbye to you. I hope that you do not think badly about me when they tell you that I returned to the country and that I left without saying goodbye to you.
by Rafael Rodríguez
Oh, Maria, you just passed in front of my parent’s house. After twelve years, I came back again to see everyone. Throughout all of these years, I have been in New York. Today you passed by without looking at me; you did not even look this way. Maybe because you thought that I was not here. You appear to be the same – your wavy hair, your puckered lips, and your natural beauty. You are the same. I remember when you and I were innocently playing. When we were fifteen, we shared our first kiss. Yes, I remember you hiding between the bushes and me following you around. Then, we innocently embrace one another.
Every morning, on horseback, I used to pass in front of your house. I always saw you looking through the windows. Many times you would give me a smile and other times you threw me a kiss. Your smile and your kiss would stay with me for the rest of the day. At night, I used to steal flowers from the neighbor’s garden and throw them through your bedroom window. During those times, I acquired pure and transparent thoughts that settled on my spirit. I learned to love and to appreciate the natural beauty of the countryside. I remember the starry night, in which we walked together under the infinite sky, walking silently, you holding my hand and I with your soul in my heart. That evening, while we were walking, it started to rain. We ran together feeling the warm water of the Caribbean. We arrived to your house, while your parents were sleeping. You kissed me and told me goodbye. I still remember that night with you in the rain, whenever I see water falling from the sky. I also remember that same night when I put the red carnation in your hair. Later on, it withered and fell on the ground.
In my mind, I still have a picture of your honey colored eyes; those sweet eyes that always looked at me with the tenderness of an angel. I used to see myself in your eyes. I was lost in your eyes. You always blushed when I looked at you; it was the blush of an innocent child.
You used to love to see me riding horses. I always galloped quickly, when I passed by your house, just to hear your lips saying, “please, be careful”.
Some of the things that I miss the most are the games that we used to play during the evening under the leafy trees and the stars. I want a piece of that marvelous sky in New York City. Also, I want the trees, the rain and the air of pure world in which you and I lived.
The night before I went to New York, you were crying so much. I promised you that I would return. You were waiting for me, but I started to study literature and politics over there. You know that I always liked to read poetry to you. I remember that you would cry when I wrote something about your lips and eyes. My life in New York is different. We do not have the trees, the sky, or the air of the Caribbean. However, the thing that I miss the most from my country is you. You are what I miss the most. I miss the innocence of those days: a clean kiss and nothing more, a smile without a single bad thought. I cannot find your eyes anywhere - not even in the pictures of a child, not in the petals of a rose. Nowhere can I find your voice, not your lips, not your hands. In New York City, I cannot find neither you nor your world.
Everything has changed for me. I know that you think that I am someone different, that I have forgotten about everyone. No, Maria, I haven’t forgotten those beautiful moments of my life. They will go with me to the grave. The readings of Baudelaire, Sartre, Kant, Nietzche, Kafka and the others produced an intellectual metamorphosis in me, however, my emotions remained untouched. I taught in a high school and in a university in New York City. You never paid attention to books. You always preferred to play with me.
I have tried to live a decent life, as you dreamt for me. I became a teacher. Sometimes when I walk through the streets of New York City, I see the scorn on the faces of the people. I ask myself why did I exchange this world for the other one. Everything seems so absurd that I dream of returning to the land of my birth to live forever.
You walk with me on the streets of New York City even when your body is here. I carry you in my soul, on my mind. You cannot imagine how difficult it is to live being haunted by your phantom. When I saw the snow for the first time, I immediately imagined you. I wanted to play in it with you. I thought that you would be just as surprised as I was. Sometimes, I see things through your eyes. The streets, stores, buildings, trains and the noise of the city all seem to contain your face. Others cannot see you because they have never lived in your world the way I did.
When I went to the university, I always imagined you being there with me. One day, in a literature class, I read in a beautiful manner because I imagined that you were in that room looking at me and listening. But I realized it was only a dream, when I did not feel your kiss on my cheek.
The first time that I saw the Statue of Liberty I did not feel anything, perhaps because the statue represents a way of life opposite of my own. I was surprised by the buildings in the city, but I more surprised by the absence of trees and flowers.
Today I appear to be a different person, but inside of me I still love this world. The air is different when I breath, the sun warms me as if it were welcoming me for the first time. There I never felt like I was in my world. Today, even here, I feel like a foreigner. However, I am in my home country. You passed by without seeing me. The other guys already passed by too. They have children. They said goodbye to me, but it is no longer the same. I came back thinking that everything would be as it was before, that no one had changed. Time kept passing after I left. I thought that time would have stopped, but now I realize that was only my dream.
Now everything is different. If I return, it will not be the same. I discovered that new houses were built on the ground under the tree that witnessed our first kiss. Our friends no longer smile in the same way as they did before. Earlier today, tears were running down my face when your cousin Miguel’s child asked him, “who was that man?”. To return and begin again, no, I do not want the pain. I left this world behind and built a new one. I do not think that I have the strength and the courage to destroy my new life and return to this one that is no longer the same.
Maria, I do not know if I should visit you. The pain would be too immense if you treated me the way the others did. Juan told me that you married Pedro and that you have two children. I returned to reencounter my world, but all I find is pain. I do not want to return to New York, but I believe that there I can dream of all of you. Today I am leaving, Maria, without saying goodbye to you. I hope that you do not think badly about me when they tell you that I returned to the country and that I left without saying goodbye to you.
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