Letters to the Wind

Born in the South of Chile, traveling by myself since a young age to get to school, I decided to transform the hours I had in the bus and train in written worlds beyond the mountains that surrounded ... [+]

Image of Long Story Short Award - 2022
Image of Short Fiction
Once again, I found myself seated under the shade of the imposing stone structure of the train station. Once again, I saw a couple hundreds of people, all moving here and there, all of them looking for a different meaning about life. Some were running to arrive on time to work; others were only running to find the right person. Nevertheless, none of them will ever know the purpose each other had in mind. After all, we are all seeds in the breeze, and perhaps, even less than that, like a shadow, until someone that feels enough curiosity brings us back to the light.

I do not mean to put all these walking seeds that are bleeding emotions in my panorama, but we could say I enjoy their company a little bit. For all those people who had a tough day, the hustle of their thoughts must be oppressing. I have left aside those feelings. I have dived into a sea of emotions that finds its climax with each air whistle. I know each one of those whistles keeps us closer. That is what keeps me clinging to him. Hope? Possibly that is what it seems to you; however, not for me. Hope keeps you tied to two possibilities; the first one is: finding what you are looking for or that what you are looking for comes back to you; the second option, it is to never find what you are looking for, falling into a dark abyss. I have made myself a promise that I will not fall again and that everything that happened, happens, and will happen across my mind will not do more than edifying, even if it is not what it seems to everyone else. I have decided to live conforming to everything, with a smile in the saddest of tragedies, because I know I am not alone and that it is not necessary for a restless heart to feel more sorrow than ever before.

One time, between laughter and tears, a kind voice told me that the best remedy to life is to imagine your ideal life. And that is precisely what I am doing. Every day, I am the protagonist of my own story. It does not matter how long it takes for the train to be empty. I stand out there, waiting until the last passenger, with a sleepy smile and short height, takes off his hat and says goodbye to the train from the platform. Of course, that means that who I am waiting for has not yet arrived, but at the same time, it means we are one day closer to the train wagons to bring him back to me, as they did some time ago. Unpredictable. That is the word I would use to describe him.

He was unpredictable as he spoke, unpredictable to arrive, unpredictable to smile, unpredictable when touching, unpredictable when teaching, unpredictable when writing, and unpredictable when loving.

His eyes were a canvas that I ended up painting for his convenience and even for my own. We met in this exact place when the leaf of the first day of autumn that I picked up fell from my hands. I would have lost the leaf if he had not seen it flying away from me. He did not hesitate for a second to run after it and give it back to me as if it was a wallet, a lost child, or a precious item. Indeed, that is what that leaf meant to me.

– This leaf is yours; here you go – he said, extending his hand to me, holding my little treasure
– Thanks – I murmured

Then, he asked if the seat next to me was taken, and I said "no." We started our conversation, and he told me about the story that brought him to this country, to this place somewhat apart from the rest of the world. Curiosity was his answer. The desire to find something that made him passionate and helped him discover his own world brought him here. Certainly, him visiting this remote part of the world was not trivial. A friend of his father talked to him about South America. He told him about the simplicity of what he could find here, compared to his natal North America. This is a place where volcanoes are knitted to each other, they surround you at sunrise, and you can continue staring at them from the train window.

We talked about our dreams throughout that day and the following months, just not like people typically do. Speculating with what they do not have. We had it all, and what was not yet written, we solved it along the way because that is why we are down here for.

You probably think we spent every single day I talked to you about together, but that was not the case. That made us even better, absolutely better. Beyond keeping people apart, distance helps us create genuine relationships, whether it is a friendship, a romantic relationship, or whatever comes to mind. A road between two people can only be created when they permit it, and this is not the case. Of course, I do not travel through the streets as if he was by my side; I am not that insane yet. I just enjoy what surrounds me because even when the color of the sky is gray, the sky embraces me and whispers to my ear that I will not be waiting forever, and that all of those who can really feel their emotions obtain what they hope for.