Autor:    Enrique Morales Guerrero

CHIMERAS

My mother is ninety-two years old and my father is ninety-eight, they are sitting in their usual rocking chairs, their free faces breathing the pure morning air, they listen and understand everything perfectly, you can talk with them about any matter of life; a condition that we took advantage of to continue learning from their wise advice.

The sun began to release its first rays of light, tinged with the songs of the birds that jumped happily among the foliage of the trees and the bushes of the garden. At the back of the yard, I saw my oldest male son, who, at times, would be absent from the house for some time without giving us reasons for the reason for his absence; the important thing was that he was there accompanying us again, I felt happy for his return despite the uncertainty about his next trip to any place and at any time indeterminate. He was accompanied by my older brother, yes, it was him, my older brother, even though he too had been absent for a long time, without any news of his life; it was him, although his appearance was a bit blurred, perhaps from the effect of the morning veil that still lingered. They were planting some grains of corn and pieces of cassava stalks, taking advantage of the return of the first rains in April. Another of my brothers liked taking care of my mother´ garden, he pruned and groomed the bushes of bonche, roses, among others appreciated by her in that place where she recreated her spirit and through which she so many times walked full of hope contemplating the flowers.

Some parts of the house presented certain changes, such as the place where my parents are, but they conserved several details of the old structure, which is why we lived the family atmosphere of so many years. The old talked to each other, but now I couldn´t quite grasp what they were saying, which, judging from the look of their faces, were all pleasant things. I looked at the back of the yard, in the space that served as a small garden, I did not see my brother or my son, perhaps, I thought, they went into the mountains to look for some pumpkins and sweet potatoes for breakfast. In seconds, two strange-looking men appeared but, due to the way they walked in the space of the house, they were familiar to me, one of them approached us, said something accompanying his words with some gestures and disappeared in an instant; the other entered the room next to where we were, but he did not appear as he expected, so I was left without knowing what happened to him and who he was.

I was very confused by what I was witnessing, I checked the place where the second man disappeared, then I walked quickly, almost running, towards where my brother and my son were; there their footprints remained on the newly plowed land. The radiant morning began to fade under a great grayish and warm blanket that very soon became a strong hurricane wind, “it´s the southeast wind”, someone shouted on the eastern street. I clung tightly to a centennial chitú, in a matter of seconds the violence of the wind left everything flattened except for some robust trees, which withstood the onslaught of nature like the one that served me as my salvation. Immediately, I returned to the place where my parents were, I found the rocking chairs empty; I felt lonely and strange in my childhood home. I went to the door of the main entrance, on the terrace several people were seated who, when they saw me, were indifferent; then, I closed my eyes tightly and, when I opened them, I was surprised in my bed by the light of day.

I experienced the sadness that comes with recognizing the illusion of pleasant realities experienced when we sleep; but, I felt profound joy at having had the opportunity, as many times as now, to see my loved ones who are no longer there, even if only in my chimeras.