Watch the flames burn
Cristina Molina Campos 4ºB
Sometimes we are said beautiful things...
“This is the greatest day of my life”.
“I will never love anyone like I love you”.
“Thank you... thank you for being part of my life”.
“I won’t forget you, I promise”.
“I don’t care about anyone else, I care about you right
now, and who cares about the future... because at
this exact moment, I’ve got you and you’ve got
“I’m not saying goodbye. Not to you”.
“I love you”.
But I don’t think people believe
that one day, everything can just
Disappear like smoke after a smoky
and damp dawn. Just leave, go
Neither did I.
And here I am... holding my husband’s hand,
holding it tight. Our children quietly whispering.
“I’m bored”, “When does this finish?” And I think
I’m going to explode. Soon, desperately.
My husband looks at me, “Are you okay,
darling?”, he asks. How does he dare to ask me if
I’m okay? Nothing makes sense. I’m just at a
funeral, surrounded by the people that are
supposed to love me, my family. But the only
thing I am able to do is crying... crying for the
person that is being buried right now in front of
A friend. An old friend. An old close friend. That’s what
I’ve always said. That’s what I told my husband the day
I met him, when he asked me who the young man of
photo I used to carry in my wallet was. But for me, he
never was just an old close friend.
Now, dressed in stupid black clothes, I can’t even manage
to blink my eyes. Tears fall from them, making
everything so faint. I am watching him die... he’s
already dead, though. I’m just killing all my memories
while his body is going down... down into the ground.
What made him special? That’s a
“Good morning, my love”.
Back to the times when we were together. That day, that
early morning, those incredible feelings. The way he
stared at me, saying the words he used to repeat, “You’re
so beautiful”. I never believed him, though. I just
answered with a smile, but just because he always told
me that my smile was truthful.
I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I
remember all of them, actually. And I remember
the conversations, talking about nothing special
sometimes, and talking our hearts out others. We
didn’t feel love, we felt each other.
I still feel the breeze by the sea, and the hugs to
give us heat. To make us feel warm. The quick
kisses on my nose and the laughter afterwards.
The way his eyes shone...
I promise I haven’t seen a pair of eyes like his again.
And, of course, I remember the thunder and
lightning that hit our lives... and how we were
forced to take different paths. I sometimes
wondered why, but when you really love
someone, you stop caring about your own
to start thinking about theirs.
“My love, the funeral has ended. Time to go back home”,
says my husband. “Hurry up, the children have to do to
their homework, and we have an appointment with the
I look at him, tears slowly falling from my eyes, and instead
of nodding, “I think I’ll stay longer”.
He seems to understand, he’s always done it although he’s
never admitted it. He’s always known he’s not the person
I’ve loved the most in the world. That’s why he tells the
children to go to the car, because mum has to do
something by herself. I watch my family disappear,
heading to our car, and I turn right in order to see all the
flowers lying on the cold brown ground.
“You’ve left me quite soon”, I think. “This wasn’t in our
I cry. I cry a lot. Nobody would understand me... I’ve got a
family, a husband I love and two children I’m
completely passionate about. But that’s about it. I
don’t have fun, surprises or midnight kisses in my life. I
don’t have the person I would have liked to spend the
rest of my days with by my side. He’s not holding me
close, or slowly kissing my neck. He’s gone.
No more opportunities.
We ran out of time.
I wish I could hug him just one more time, at
least I could smell him again. Oh, how I loved
getting home after an afternoon with him and
feeling his smell on my coat. And how I miss it.
I wish he were here.
And the worst part is that he is actually here.
I kneel before the flowers. And almost without
realising it, I start saying goodbye, something I
didn’t do twenty years ago.
I raise my voice... and deep inside, I know he’s
listening to me somehow:
“I’ve learnt something from you. Something big,
huge. Beauty is not a body; freedom is not
choosing what you want to have for dinner or
the dress you want to buy. Sadness doesn’t
mean our lives are terrible, and happiness is
not always meant to be lived with a smile.
Love is not saying ‘I love you’ as well as loving
someone is not kissing them all the time. Rainy
days don’t kill you, and the sunny ones may
not be always cheerful. Goodbyes shouldn’t
exist, and promises don’t have to end in
Do you know why I know that? It’s because you taught
me those things. You made me see what life is about. I
saw beauty in the landscapes we drew with our fingers,
those skies we used to stare at. Freedom was running
faster and faster early in the morning after a long night
wandering around town with you. Freedom was talking
to you about our dreams, too. Sadness had a meaning
with you, a powerful one. We looked at each other’s
eyes when we were sad... and yours seemed to be bluer
than never before. You know, as they say, blue is the
sad colour. But, however, we found happiness in that
bluish life. Love was... it was not just holding hands and
cuddling up with you. It was feeling every single word.
And yes... I also learnt that a kiss under the rain with
you was better than any other kiss under the brightest
sun with anybody else.
And although goodbyes are not fair, and although
life isn’t either, sometimes, and you have also
taught me this, we have to let go. And I’ll always
remember the day I let you go. And how it hurt.
But after all this time, if I had to choose the best
part of having shared my life with you for the
time we enjoyed each other... it is that, if I could
repeat it all again, start all over, I wouldn’t let you
go this time. I would fight for you. Because true
love... true love only happens once...
I stand up again. I take a look at those flowers
for the last time.
I almost feel his hands holding my hips like when
we were seventeen. His voice at five a.m. on
the telephone, and his fingers drawing a smile
on my face.
“Honey, we’re waiting for you”, my husband shouts
from the car.
I know it’s time to go, come back home, live
my life as I’ve been doing for the last twenty
years. So I start walking, leaving the
graveyard and reaching our car. I dry my own
tears, and slowly, I start smiling.
Well, the only reason I smile right now
is because I’m sure of one single
I’ll teach my children how to never let
true love escape from their lives.