Versary Eleven Two Zero Twenty

April 11, 2020. April 11, Two Thousand Twenty. Two Zero Twenty. There is one thing with anniversaries, "month-versaries". "Versaries" that have nothing to do with writing verses, but with commemorating past events, they have always caused me a certain rejection. Bringing up a memory that may hurt you in the long run, but we still celebrate it. Because it almost always hurts, sooner or later it hurts. It's a depressingly joyous feast. But still we buy candles, we write little letters and we split a decorated cake. We fill ourselves with food, we fill ourselves with alcohol, we stink of cigarettes, we stay up late, we get smeared with kisses, we remember other "versaries" (commemorative and written), we drown in tears and burst out laughing. We look into each other's eyes and smear more kisses.

How rare are "versaries". This "versary", for example, is one of the rarest. The rain has been falling for days at the same hours, saving me the tears that I should shed as in many other "versaries", but also preventing me from taking the usual walk, with the sun on my back and photographing my shadow to send greetings to the little bird that smells like spices. The little bird of sea and spices. How strange is this "versary" in which I look through the window and smile at the gray sky instead of cursing his daring to hide the blue color that I miss so much. How sweet it can be, if you make me dance? // How long will it last, baby if we dance ?.

«Dance with me», I used to tell to the little bird, excited ... Dance with me and just by saying it I could imagine her with her little wing in my hand and moving to the rhythm of Beautiful Tango. Running my hand through her hair, with the fear and emotion of the child who will be caught sticking his finger in the bowl of cake frosting. Approaching the forbidden neck of the bird that is no longer a bird. Getting closer to see if there really are sea and spices between her hair; errors and whiskey on my lips I taste mistakes and whiskey on your lips. What a strange "versary" in which I see you all the time, without actually being here. But we can put us to the test (or maybe not, nobody knows). We will have patience... Faith. Cause we've got time. Yes, we've got time.