Memorias.

Sometimes, on rainy beautiful days, I get flashbacks from Uruguay or Venezuela. Today, I remembered a small moment from Uruguay.

I rode the bus to the little music school where I practiced my music on an old piano whose keys were barely still intact, and yet, its sound was still beautiful. I spent hours with that little old piano, caressing its keys to make the sounds that were and are so dear to me. After practicing for an hour or so, I would don my grey jacket with the fuzzy inside and walk outside into the grey world which is Uruguay. The sidewalk was a grey, the buildings with their old stone architecture was grey, the sky was grey and even I, in my jacket, was grey. I remember standing on the corner by my music school, shivering in the cold, gazing up at the tops of the buildings surrounding me, which could so easily be missed if one wasn’t observant. On one corner of a building, there was an angel with its wings spread out with a look on her face that said her mission was to protect and bless those inside the building. The building across from the angel was topped by gargoyles who, despite their ugly faces, at the same time looked friendly. In that moment, if I had had a wish to make, I would’ve asked the angel and the gargoyles to tell me stories about all they had seen in their years perched on top of the buildings. 

Raindrops started to fall, signaling the time for me to walk to the ballet studio where I danced. I walked slowly despite the rain, taking in all around me. Looking back, I wish I had walked even slower. 

My heart aches for those grey buildings, the grey sidewalks, the grey sky, that grey jacket, and the grey people whom I grew to love so much. 

Someday, I’ll go back and visit that old music school with the beautiful crumbling piano and touch its keys one more time and remember why I fell in love with music. I’ll go back and run my hands along the stone walls that became so familiar to me and look up and smile at the angel and gargoyles. I’ll walk the streets and let the rain soak my skin. Maybe I’ll even go back to the ballet studio and dance one more time.

Someday, I’ll go back and fall in love with that beautiful, grey town all over again.

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