The Spy

The house had gradually turned into a mausoleum, I do not know why, but as the years went by, I filled the walls with pictures of the children, and grandchildren, which we were receiving from time to time, in occasion of a new birth or some celebration.

Now I can barely recognize the ones in those photographs, it's not just for the eyes, that's why I have the reading glasses and it would be impossible without them to see things with details, but those faces no longer tell me anything.

How many times I stopped discussing with my wife about different photos, about how happy we were, and the desire we had to see that again, instead now, they are there, like stops in time, as if they were from another life, to which I no longer belong.

Without her, I cannot imagine a past, in each of the places where we went, she was there, in every celebration we attended, she was there, and in so many photos, we were both, but now, except for her, I can hardly recognize the rest of the people in the photos, and … in addition, there's no one I can ask, there is not even with the one who to comment those photos.

Now they are part of the wall, as if it were a wallpaper, I don't stop to look at them, because for me they are strangers, one day they shared my life but now I do not feel them far away, I just do not feel them.

When I go down the corridor, sometimes I look at the photos that are hanging, they are from totally unknown places and people, curious to try to guess who they are or what they do, but no, I cannot remember!

An assistant occasionally comes home to do a little cleaning, at first she asked about my grandchildren, and I pointed them out on the photos, but now, I do not know where those photos are, nor do I know how many grandchildren I have.

I hardly want to talk, because I have nothing to say, my memories are painful, not because I have not lived much and have much experience, but because my most important memories are precisely those of my great loves, and those, unfortunately, are not with me anymore.

I can remember my first love like it was yesterday, she worked in a bar on the road, near the gas station, just outside the town.

I always refueled the minimum so that my vehicle walked, for having to go to put gasoline next day, and so having some excuse to enter that bar to have breakfast.

At first I had not noticed her, she was a new girl in the village, maybe someone passing by. Her kind smile and curly black hair made me go crazy. I was not sure if she had even noticed me, used to attentions of other men, but my persistence paid off. After a few months going there daily, one day she told me:

– Okay, tell me really, what do you want?

– Well, today I'd like to eat an house specialty! – I answered.

– No, really! You're the only of our customers who comes every day, it's cold or hot, and even when the gas station is closed, then what do you want?

I was left speechless, so I sucked it up and I happened to say:

You!

– What? – She asked astonished.

–Yes, all these days, weeks and months, I've loved you, and that's why I came to see you, to spend a day without seeing you is like taking off the morning sun!

She went to the kitchen running, I think she was confused by my words or something, and after a while she came back and said:

–I'm leaving, this is my last day of work!, I was here only to earn some money, before I went on my way, you have been very kind all this time, and thank you.

–But I…. I just declared.

–Yes, I know it and your words are very nice, but it was too late, if you had told me before, maybe we could have taken advantage of the time in another way, now … it's too late -That said, she turned around and followed with her work.

I could not taste anything, despite how succulent everything seemed to be, I just stayed in that place for five more minutes and left almost running, I could not believe it! I had gotten used to see her every day, her pretty smile and her black hair, and now … she left me.

I thought, I don’t know, to talk to the boss, to tell him to pay her more, I even thought to pay the boss for the difference in the salary increase, I thought to talk to her and ask her not to leave … I thought … but the next day, when I came back, believing that it had been a bad dream, she was no longer here, nor the next, nor the next … until I made up my mind that I would never see her again, that my great love had disappeared from my life, and I would never meet again a woman like her, she was unique.

Painful memories, I can still remember her smile and her hair, especially that hair, as I liked, it seems I am seeing, as if it were yesterday, removing it from her face, when that treacherous strand that was leaking fell out, and putting it behind the ear with her finger.

Although it was not a corresponded love, I have never been able to forget her, since she was my first love.

I do not have any pictures of her, so many scattered all over the house, but there is nothing of that part of my life.

Nor do I have any friends, neighbors, anyone known, they have left this world or have gone to the nursing homes.

The neighborhood is not what it used to be, now everyone is in a hurry, they don't go out in the morning to mow the lawn, nor to play with the children on weekends, sometimes, it's strange to be here, everything is so changed.

I know every house, every tree, but people are so unknown to me that I do not know … I do not feel comfortable when I go out, even though the people I meet always show me a smile after greeting me.

Someone occasionally still needs me, talking about my past, about my experiences, as if that is important, but I think I find it tough to face the time passing and that my best moments are already so far, that seems to be someone else's.

Years go by, and every time they leave more mark on my health, and unfortunately, they are taking away the memory, the most precious thing I had, all the rest, my personal belongings, I do not care if they get full of dust! Memories seem to be erased little by little, blurred like the mist in the morning, and so many experiences with them.

Someone has suggested that I should write a book, at my age, like it's so easy! I have even been asked to make a documentary about my life, but I have not seen it clearly.

So many things I could say, but I do not feel strong enough to remember everything, and not in front of a camera and with strangers listening to it.

Every time I remember a fact I get excited, since I live it as if it were happening at that moment, but then, when it's over, I have a deep sadness, when I realize that it's just a memory, something from the past, that remained relegated in time, almost forgotten.

I don't know why the memories of my youth and childhood are increasingly clear, I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, but I can do it about the adventures I had when I was a kid, or the most important things that happened to me during high school.

So many people with whom I spoke and I came across, so many who loved and loved me, family, friends and acquaintances, all that affection and shared emotion, and I do not know where any of them are anymore.

Surely they have made their lives, and they are enjoying their children and even their grandchildren, wherever they are, but sometimes I wouldn't feel so alone!

The nights are the worst moment, sometimes when I try to sleep I'm flooded with a lot of memories, experiences that happened in the house, the stories of an old man, can be said, but it's a whole life, day after day, how many things experienced! And I start thinking, and one thought leads to another, and to another, and sometimes the hours pass and I can't sleep, until fatigue and exhaustion make me fall weary.

At other times, the aches prevent me from spending the night, when it's not one thing it's another, if I stay in a position too long I can feel the knee or the back complaining, every night until I finally fall asleep.

Of course, the alarm calls me every day at six in the morning, just as it has done since I started working, when I was young.

A "my mania", as my dear wife said, that I never left, not even when I stopped having obligations once I got old, but I’ve always liked to take advantage of time, and not allowing the sun rise before me.

Perhaps it was force of habit, or perhaps I felt comfortable knowing what I had to do every morning, anyway, as much as she tried to persuade me, I always woke up at the same time, whether the sun rose or not.

Every day, as soon as I got up I looked for an open space and did my exercises, a few stretches, to have some flexibility, enough to wake up before washing my face with cold water.

"The secret of my smooth skin is the cold water in the morning!" I heard about that from a famous actor, who bragged about his skin despite his age.

At my age, I don't do it for aesthetic, or for the skin, just to clear it, but whereas that was necessary for a long time, it made me ready to go out to work and start the day, but now … many times I stay in front of the sink mirror asking me, "What now?"

I go back to wash my face, hoping that I can think of something to do in the day, and nothing … I look in the mirror, and it returns a face I barely recognize, some wrinkles that were never there, now covering my whole face and not only, I'm also seeing the hands…

I don't know how others are as they get older, but in my case, it has not been a pleasant thing to see how little by little all my dreams and illusions have been diluted over time.

I have achieved a lot, but why? Who will remember me, my work and effort? Who cares now about the thousands of hours dedicated?

Eventually, it's true that someone can recall when one day he met me, but apart from friends and family, no one cared about what I did and achieved.