Sometimes I look at you, through the glass walls of the office, and wonder how it is possible that we have come to this. Being fellow workers, it all began slowly, very slowly. After meetings we began talking about our lives, exchanging information about our children, our families, our respective divorces, and we began building that trust and friendship that ultimately grew into passionate love. At first, we kept it a precious secret, only for ourselves. It was exciting, exhilarating. I remember that glorious Spring Day, just before Easter, when we met at a cliff above the sea, and when you saw me, you just opened your arms and I ran into them… how happy we were then, and for a long time too! And how did things get so bad, how did we let them get to the point of no return – I’ll never be able to answer this question, because I don’t know how two people who love each other so much can afford to lose something as precious as we had. But the fact is – we did. For a time, we made some pretence of friendship. We even went out to dinner for a few times, and we talked of everything and nothing, but never about us, or the reasons for our breakup. I always knew this was taboo for you, as you never wanted to discuss serious matters, even when we were still together. Like an ostrich, you’d bury your head in the sand and make-believe all problems had disappeared. But they didn’t, they came back to us inexorably, until they were too much to bear. Then you withdrew into your shell again. No more long talks about nothing much, no more dinners. Sometimes I think you’re afraid of me, afraid of whatever emotions I may still stir in your heart; emotions you don’t want to feel. Maybe you feel comfortable with a life that has no complications, that doesn’t bring you excitement or heartbreak, a life where you control your emotions. Because you were hurt, and you don’t want to be hurt again – or so you’ve told me. And now you are on the verge of retirement, and I’ll probably stop seeing you in the only place where our paths cross – that same office where they came together for the first time. Soon I’ll look through the glass walls and I won’t see your tall figure, your familiar way of walking; I won’t hear your voice or your laugh. If not for a rare, occasional meeting at some mutual friends’, I’ll probably never see you again. Maybe, I think, It’s for the best. If I don’t see you, who knows, I may stop thinking about you. I’ll probably stop looking at your arms and how they used to hold me, stop thinking how I ran my fingers through your dark hair, see your hands and remember how you held mine in your strong grip, distinguish your silhouette among a thousand different ones… I always end up thinking how special you were, and how there will never be anyone like you in my life. Now that I know I won’t be seeing you anymore, I hope those thoughts will wander away from my mind, so they won’t hurt anymore. I hope the memory of you fades away in the mists of time and I will stop being sad over you, and our love story. And then, only then, maybe I will smile at life again. …
Tag: love
Yesterday I went to a wedding. It was the wedding of the daughter of a fellow worker, someone I consider a friend, but even so I was surprised at the invitation. Very few people from the office were invited, but it’s true that the bride’s mother and I share a bond that has lasted for quite a few years. So, I said yes, even if the prospect of a wedding is not exactly something that I relish. The last wedding …
I was offered a book of short stories from a Portuguese author for Christmas. I had never read any of her books, and wasn’t particularly interested, but I have to say it was a pleasant surprise. I really enjoyed the stories, stories about women and their loves, struggles and achievements. The story in the book One story reminded me of you. Actually, there were two stories, or rather two sides to the same story: that of a mother …
Prince Uncharming More and more, the memories of his life as a powerful prince of a distant land are vanishing in the mists of time. But he will never forget the day when the wise woman of the forest (or was it a witch?) condemned him to a life of incarceration within the green vase. And, this time, no true love from a woman would save him as in Beauty and the Beast. To be fair, he didn’t deserve …
This story is about a girl. Teresa. It begins in 1975, when she’s only twelve. She’s just left her homeland, Mozambique, a former Portuguese colony, now riven by revolution and madness. In the wake of civil war, fear and terror crack open Teresa’s idyllic childhood. Even the family pets act distraught. Granny no longer tends to her roses. Everybody starts sleeping in the same room, afraid of knives in the night. They must flee the land they have …
It was a spring-like day; one of those February days when the sun shines so bright, the sky is incredibly blue, and you feel warm for the first time after so many months. It makes you wonder if spring has come early this year – and you enjoy it. We sat on the balcony of my friend’s charming apartment in an old building of a traditional Lisbon quarter, on a steep street like so many others that go …
This story is about a girl. Teresa. It begins in 1975, when she’s only twelve. She’s just left her homeland, Mozambique, a former Portuguese colony, now riven by revolution and madness. In the wake of civil war, fear and terror crack open Teresa’s idyllic childhood. Even the family pets act distraught. Granny no longer tends to her roses. Everybody starts sleeping in the same room, afraid of knives in the night. They must flee the land they have …
No Christmas is exactly like the previous one. You may keep most of the rituals, the people you celebrate it with, shop in the same stores and cook the same dishes for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but still, it will feel familiar, because it will be “your” Christmas all over again. Not this year. This Christmas will be different from all the Christmases we have lived before, and, even with those few we’ll get together with, …
Life is like the water in a river – each chapter begins, unfolds, and then it’s gone forever, as the water flows from its source to the estuary, only to lose itself in the immensity of the sea. Like flowing water, our happy moments only lingered for a while, and then they were gone, swiftly but inexorably heading towards the end, an end neither of us wanted but both knew was inevitable. It’s incredible how all relationships are …
Dear Uncle The other day I was revising the first chapters of my book and came up with a scene where the main character, Teresa, has a long talk with her Uncle Jorge, who is so much like you that he can only be one of my favourites. I’ll never forget those talks. In addition to your being great company, with a sense of humour I enjoyed so much, you always had wise words of advice to …