El Hierro II

I returned to the island, the island that I defined in a previous story as the island of the senses, an island of winds and waters, I returned with desire, with many more than I have been able to admit until the wheels of the plane did not touch land, there, at that moment… I sighed.

I began to understand when, leaving the airport terminal to pick up the rental car, I spent more than five minutes leaning on that small stone wall, watching how the waters hit without pause the rocks that dared to face them.

I could not tell you everything that came up in my head, I just could not stop thinking about a thousand and one different things, the city I had left behind… a job that fills me, fortunately, but from which I was about to collapse… maybe even put in order the memory that betrayed me so much with memories that persisted there, deep inside… imagine what my apartment would be like, from where I was going to spend all these days… the smell, that smell of salt and earth, the soft warmth of a sun that does not cease to insist that you look ahead… travel those roads, which in some sections, are worryingly narrow…

Arrive at the apartment, do the necessary paperwork, leave the suitcase in a corner and go out to the balcony that luck has so generously favored me, look beyond what the eye can see and decide that it is time to start, so I do not disassemble suitcases, I just take the camera, and the most basic and go down to contemplate the coastline, the rocks that so strongly oppose the thrust of those waves that never cease.

You have to understand, that there are many… well, maybe some… okay!!!, few, but there are some that define me as intense, maybe even impulsive, that I don’t stop to think about anything but what I have decided to do at that moment, and I can’t help but agree with them in a way, because my own history has left me scars, some of them still visible on my body.

So, for one or more of you, it will not surprise you to know, that after a long time there, just watching how the waters hit the rocks, I decided to do something… impulsive.

And of course, there I am, in the water, swimming, or rather trying not to swallow more water than recommended, fighting against a current that I do not know but that pushes me against the breakers, I push with my legs, with my arms, with my head even to overcome the distance … when in one of those moments when you stop and let yourself go, you ask yourself ….

What the hell am I doing?

I was never an Olympic swimmer, in fact, I think I’m even the closest thing to a kind of block that is limited to shake the legs and arms and, luckily, floats, pools and I are not irreconcilable enemies, but we are not regulars, the beach … close and if possible in the shade, come on my relaxation is not to do long and long and longer and longer, rather they are short but very short.

And there I am, in the middle of an ocean that I don’t know, in the direction of who knows what continent…and I start crying.

Yes, I know, you will tell me that it is the salt in my eyes, that it is the fear that I am far from the shore, and believe me, I am far enough, and I do not know if I will have enough energy to return, maybe you will tell me that it is because of the depth that I can only imagine what is under me, in fact, I have only briefly submerged my head and the darkness that I perceive indicates me the possibility of a whole series of monsters…


You know, I have imagined all those excuses or reasons for it, to understand why, but I was there, it was me crying, and even more I will tell you, it was me screaming.

I was crying and screaming for those that I fired in circumstances that should never have existed….

I was crying and screaming because of the fear that I felt, not for me, but for those who decided to believe in me…

I cried and screamed because I didn’t believe I could feel again…

I was crying and screaming because I wanted to scare that current that pretended to …

I cried and screamed because I still believed I was worthy of more attempts, of more possible …

I was crying and screaming for those I never thought I deserved, and also for those I decided to push away…

I cried and screamed because I felt like doing it,

I cried and screamed… until I reached the shore, although it would be better to say, until I reached the rocks and I could allow myself the luxury of letting myself fall, while the waves struggled to want to embrace me again.

I sat, panting, with my heart wanting to jump out of my chest, with a thousand more tears there, coming and going without pause, with the memories that were being washed and leaving that, when dry, can be stored on that vital shelf that is part of me, of what I am, of what explains who I am.

I can’t tell you how long I stood there, letting my pulse relax, letting my sight try to see beyond the horizon line, arms and legs demanding my attention, full of pricks that reminded me of the effort I had forced them to make.

I know I stopped crying, sighing even when past faces came to my memory, moments lived with an intensity that I never thought possible, there came a time when I was only breathing, and that alone seemed to me an enormous effort.

Everything was falling into place, each scar, each memory, each new experience I had lived and that I had not recognized, that I did not believe it to be true despite the insistence of those who knew me better than myself, I saw it all there, sitting on those rocks and there, I began to see who I was.

And you know, I knew it would take me a while to write these lines that remind me of that moment, but I also knew that I could tell you about it, because if there is something I feel lucky about, it is precisely that… to be able to tell you about it.

It was only the first day…

*** Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) ***

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