The
old man was sitting in front of the fire, staring at the cuckoo clock
on the wall. It was a gaze empty of all impatience. He was watching
the time, but he didn't mind the advance of the clock. A wait that
maybe could take forever and not for this would be longer.
When
at last the clock struck twelve, nothing happened. It was so still it
looked like a painting located in the darkest room of an old museum.
After five minutes, he sighed wryly and got up to smoke his pipe.
When he returned to his seat and struck a match, all the fires of the
house went out. Te room, avoided total darkness, only because the
halo of the moon light frittering through the large window. Thus the
old man's face was split between the shadows and the total
darkness...
-You
are late – He said with a tired voice
-You
are the unique mortal without suffering in agony, complaining for
five minutes more of live
-I
want last request before crossing
-Is
not in my hand to decide where you go
-It
doesn't matter
-What
do you want then?
-Three
days and three nights to read the seventh shelf in my library. There
are the memories that I have written in my lifetime
-You
understand the consequences of this request ¿Right? If you find
unfinished issues, however small, you can't cross to the other side
-I
need to remember how I got here, where I was, how many times I fell
and what I couldn't achieve
-Then,
so be it.
For
three days and three nights he read and reread his life.
He
can only remember a little about his childhood, but he thinks that it
was happy.
“Today
is my birthday. I turned six years old, and mum and dad have given me
this diary” Those first words, written with a crooked and winding
calligraphy, were the beginning of the story about his life.
It
wasn't an easy read. He enjoyed the ups but suffered the multiple
downs. He had been a great writer, so just read, he was reliving his
story. Fell in love with his first love and he saw her again in the
rearview mirror while he traveled on the road bound for his new home.
He struggled to make his friends and split the time between them. He
saw again people moving in and out of his life, some important and
other tan apparently meant nothing to him, but throughout the time it
would become important. He rediscovered aspects about his personality
that he believed dead by changing the world. But most of all, to
stopped believing in “better half”, fulfilled dreams, saw how the
fear showed him sometimes, regret, pride, fell in love, had children,
educated them, cared for them, lost their loved ones, had
grandchildren, loaded with faults, defects...
At
the end of the third day, when midnight approached that he had played
his cards as best he could, that he would make the same mistakes and
have the same successes. He was honest with who deserved it and who
did not do right. But above all, understood that each of the failures
and successes he had committed, he had taken a path that placed him
where he was now. It would be questionable to talk of good or bad
luck, justice o injustice, fate or destiny...now these mattered
little change would infinite future events different and he was happy
with what I had.
Finally
all the puzzle pieces brought together.
With
a blinding flash, the moon down the curtain after the twelfth
stroke...
