La espera

It was only going to be a few days, the operation, then rehabilitation and home. But something is wrong, the days are passing, the weeks are passing… It feels strange to be here, I’m not used to taking care of you, I don’t know what to do. I read a book, I hold your hand, I watch television, I talk to you, they change your position, you fall asleep, nothing. And tomorrow the same thing, the same meal, the same doctor’s visit, I go for a coffee, I look at you, I talk to you, nothing. You don’t like sitting, we tell you it’s better this way so you can recover, so you can get up, so you can go home. You look at me, your gaze worries me, I don’t like it, you’re angry.

Today I have put you music, it seems that your gaze travels to another place, maybe you’re remembering something, do you recognize it? do you like it? You answer me yes, who is it? I insist, Escobarete you answer me, I smile. Tomorrow no, tomorrow you don’t like it, it bothers you, you tell me: take that away, I’ll take it away, something has changed. We’re going home, the doctor said you’re better, but you can’t hear me. Today is my birthday, I hope you recover but I don’t think you know me anymore, you don’t want to open your eyes.