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                                                                                         …fragments

By Michael Sixto

“[…] the difference between you and me is that, even though we came from the same place, our expectatTrain Windowions were completely unlike.”

The train is in motion and the smell inside the wagon is ancient but fresh at the same time. Perhaps a very clear analogy of what we might look like from the distance if anyone notices our presence. He is seating right in front of me staring at the night sky that passes by thru the window in a flash. We are heading north, to the town, and we are all alone… for the first time.

We are not talking, but there is no need. It’s been close to thirty years since we shared the same space and the awkwardness, surprisingly, is not driving us insane. “…the difference between you and me is that, even though we came from the same place, our expectations were completely unlike.” He says again and this time I know for sure I cannot ignore it. I then remember the barrio and that blurry image of us running bare foot down the street. I remember his father and my mom sitting together in the park. I remember the smell of the afternoons. That smell is so vivid that I can almost touch the wind arousing every muscle of my eight year old face.  I remember many things and suddenly it is like my aged body could do the same once again. You are right- I said after a while- we were told different, but that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

“That is all I came here to hear you say… let’s go home”

 

 

 

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