lunes, 19 de diciembre de 2011

Through the window

It is supposed to be a day where people meet but at eight in the afternoon the only thing that I could do was looking through the window.
It was not a good idea when I turned on the radio because I was listening to many Christmas carols on it so I decided to listen to the last Cold Play CD that I had bought on the street; it was too high, I could not listen to my steps on the old wooden floor.
With my old and smooth pyjamas on, I sat on the window sill with a quilt on my legs and I looked through the window.
The old owner of the small grocery was closing the shop while his wife was waiting for him and near there, some friends were drinking a toast for Christmas; when I looked down at the café where many people were laughing a delicious smell came into my room, it was like a beef stew my granny used to make on special days, probably it´s in my neighbor’s kitchen, where some children were nervous because they were waiting for Santa´s visit.
During the next ten minutes I imagined non real figures with the shadows that Christmas lights reflected on the street cobblestones.
But suddenly the song stopped and I realized my telephone was ringing; my mum reminded me I had to buy the last sweets she couldn’t buy that afternoon and I would try not to be late for my parents’ as I had done over the past three Christmas Days.
In the last view through the window I thought for few minutes I was one of those people who were on the streets buying the last things they needed and doing the same things as every Christmas Day in many places round the world: colored lights, sweets, Santa’s presents or heavy dinners.
Before going out of my home I had to convince myself of that special night with family and friends and not with all the material things that would surround us.


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