con derecho a réplica

Lunes, 12 de diciembre de 2005

... what a beautiful word

I can imagine her… now, she will be lying in the room that this time, the last time, has been assigned. With the last serum, the most little one, which they say that it cleans.

What a beautiful word… “clean”… Now, it sounds better than that dark day of june next to the doors of the operating room. Clean… what a beautiful word.

I’m sure she will be joking with some nurse or chatting with her room mate of this last session. I would bet anything that they have been talking about handkerchiefs, hats… and about how good she looks with the wig and everybody believes that is a change of look.

I imagine her smiling, loving with whom attends her… but very frightened in the deepest of her soul. She doesn’t feel sure of anything but she hides it behind overacting and overacting, behind gestures and crazy fast sentences. She isn’t to blame, she no sonner falls down than she gets up… but the eyes, those eyes… hide more than she thinks.

The last session… finally, the last one. What two beautiful word. ‘Clean’ and ‘last’.

She smiled this morning, through the phone and 50 kilometres away from me, when I asked her if she has taken champagne or sprinkling white wine for celebrating it.

Since I was a child she has never stopped amazing me, as soon she could stand on her head in the presence of my friends, she jumped to the sea from the highest rock, she sang in tune a song that she have just invented or she drew with an incredible ability while she distracts me between spoonful and spoonful at lunch time… Indescribable and amazing, this is my mother.

But this time… she has exceeded all my expectations and she has surprised me again… Cancer can become a taboo topic in our society, a fear and a synonym of death. I never was able to write about this, now I do it… because she is clean. What a beautiful word…

Por: Sylvie | Some english lines | Comentarios (0) | Referencias (0)