Sometimes it’s someone
who locks you
away
Sometimes it’s you(r)
f
e
a
r
She felt such a relief leaving the house behind. They’d been so clear about how nice they were, all of them. Doing charity work, pitying the less fortunate; helping their friends, ‘because poor things, they really needed it. They assured her they were more than a family, they were the family everybody could wished for. They had jobs and got together for dinner on weekends, they were so fit and white and not poor. ‘Stability and tradition’.
She turned to take a picture as she left. Maybe her parents were not that old, maybe her friends were not so careless, maybe she was not over ambitious, maybe she was good enough. Her life was good enough.
It’s all about perspective.
Se levantó temprano, antes de que sonara la alarma, aquel era un día importante. El primer cumpleaños de su bebé. Fue hacia la cocina, en el camino la saludó su reflejo. Un año. No será una emigrante, vivirá en paz, pensó. En la cocina, movilizó los ingredientes, puso el horno muy caliente. Ella decidiría cuándo se haría la tarta, aquello era algo que podía controlar. Fue al salón, a inflar globos. Bum. ¿Y si explota?, pensó. Las malas noticias siempre se presienten, se meten en los sueños y te echan de la cama a patadas. Bum, pensó de nuevo al ver el globo. Ping, sonó el móvil. Ya están aquí, escribía su hermana, en la patria abandonada a su suerte, lejos del cumpleaños de su bebé, y de la paz. Bum. Las malas noticas siempre se presienten.
Mirelle Nathalie Aranguren 