I’m lying in bed, tired after a long, wearying day of monotonous exercises and of researching, writing, and translating (although these last ones are my most joyful activities). Amid drifting thoughts, I suddenly feel I’m suspended in the air. It’s the same feeling I used to have when I on a plane – as if the plane were still in mid-air, when it was actually flying at high speed. And this feeling is part of a seamless weave of memories that transports me into a past that when I didn’t have a crutch: when I could walk fast without hesitation; when I could speak and type fast without hesitation; and when I could fly to Argentina, where my home, family, and old friends live.
After I met Eric and all the time we were together, he and I would fly to Argentina every year, and I would show him my favorite spots in Buenos Aires, the city where I was born and raised. And after Nathan grew up, the three of us would travel around and visit stunning places– or revisit some, in my case. There, we had the chance of walking around and enjoy the views they could offer. We went to Peninsula Valdés, a gorgeous place south of Buenos Aires, where the water is blue and clear; piles of fossils form rocky elevations; and sea lions, elephant seals, whales, and penguins come to breed. We went to the northwest, where there’s a desert with deep ravines surrounded by breathtaking rock mountains that rise up into cloudless skies.
And the sense of flying also brings along a pervading fear that comes to me from the future – I experience the anticipated feeling that will accompany me on the ride to the airport; will sit beside me, in front of me, and behind me in the lounge; and will follow me on the way to the plane that will fly to Argentina, where my home is; where my family and old friends live; and where my mother, who is very old and in need of company, lives.
Fear will sit beside me, in front of me, and behind me in the plane as I have the familiar sense of being suspended in the air. If I overcome my inability to walk without a cane and am vaccinated (which will make me immune to the omnipresent virus), maybe I won’t be able to go home anyway because I won’t overcome this all-pervasive fear that has stubbornly decided to remain with me forever.
After I met Eric and all the time we were together, he and I would fly to Argentina every year, and I would show him my favorite spots in Buenos Aires, the city where I was born and raised. And after Nathan grew up, the three of us would travel around and visit stunning places– or revisit some, in my case. There, we had the chance of walking around and enjoy the views they could offer. We went to Peninsula Valdés, a gorgeous place south of Buenos Aires, where the water is blue and clear; piles of fossils form rocky elevations; and sea lions, elephant seals, whales, and penguins come to breed. We went to the northwest, where there’s a desert with deep ravines surrounded by breathtaking rock mountains that rise up into cloudless skies.
And the sense of flying also brings along a pervading fear that comes to me from the future – I experience the anticipated feeling that will accompany me on the ride to the airport; will sit beside me, in front of me, and behind me in the lounge; and will follow me on the way to the plane that will fly to Argentina, where my home is; where my family and old friends live; and where my mother, who is very old and in need of company, lives.
Fear will sit beside me, in front of me, and behind me in the plane as I have the familiar sense of being suspended in the air. If I overcome my inability to walk without a cane and am vaccinated (which will make me immune to the omnipresent virus), maybe I won’t be able to go home anyway because I won’t overcome this all-pervasive fear that has stubbornly decided to remain with me forever.
RSS Feed
