Some people grip the possessions of their lost family members with the weight and the depths of Vatican vaults, where documents must never see the light of the sun,
nor anybody else’s.
But that’s not a way to live life, nor its a way of being with those who have died. Why would you stop hanging out with your grandfather just because he passed on and you are in a different country?
You see,
I love the sun. I love closing my eyes, with my body sitting or lying, on the wood floor, grass, sand, wet dirt,
it doesn’t matter, as long as my muscles develop roots with the ground,
as if the brown wet color could simmer into my veins, into my brain, as if the dirt was where my irises get their color.
And you see, my grandpa had blue eyes, blue like that moment in the morning when the light is the brightest before you can actually see the sun, blue, like X-rays.
When I see Helios raise, and warm my body like a lukewarm oven, or like a lukewarm worm, that’s when I feel the most alive, and ironically, when my brain always says, “I could die at this very moment and that would be okay.”
And you see,
I hate the sun,
I hate when I’m typing on my computer, and the huge window in front of my computer becomes invisible under the rays of tata sun, and I also hate putting the few mementos of my grandfather in a box, so I will promise you this.
I will wear his scarf until I become rat dust, I will wear his old school jacket even if I pick a fight with a lancer, and the fabric that ties us together rips and becomes impaled.
Whether I die today, or in a million years, I will be using the x-ray of his brain scans to cover the sun from my eyes, so I can see his mind, as clearly as I could when he was alive and he would put me to sleep in the kitchen table, by telling me stories of times I couldn’t touch, sense or understand.
Maybe the outlines of his corpus callosum won’t tell me how he saw the world, but when I’m seeing them I can hear his thunder voice opening up the skies, the sun, and the world.
You see, I hate the sun, even if it erases all the plastic on the earth, even if it fades my grandfather Roque away, even if it makes me detached to this life, I love the sun
for bringing me back to center
I thank thee.
Comments