Cuentos para Kati VIII

I grew up with spines but I was told that my great-grandparents did not have them, they grew up in a different place, a fertile place filled with green and blue, a place filled with beauty, a non-denying place, a place where all dreams come truth, a place where everybody treat them with care. They did not need spines; they did not need to protect themselves. The place I live, is little on mercy, everybody has left, they could not stand the heat, the pressure, they could not stand the scarcity. 

I grew up with spines, so I could survive, I have to hide that, that that makes me live, that, that makes me alive. I did not leave the scarcity behind, I decided to stay and live with my spines.

The first time I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful, the sweetest, she has the most beautiful spines. I could not avoid to talk to her, to compliment her, to feel her close, but she does not listen, she sees beyond my words, thinking that I have other intentions. It is her spines I know, she wants to protect that, that that makes her live, that, that makes her alive. 

As days pass, I can see her spines fading away, I can see her falling to the spell of love and the touch of weak knees, of a sweet kiss, of a passing eternal hug. 

As days pass, I can see the falling of her spines and that, that that makes her alive falling from herself, as it does from the sky. Am I ready to see her pass? Am I ready myself to pass? 

I grew up with spines so I could survive, I can see her passing, but can I leave my spines behind? Am I ready to pass? She looks at me and tells me, I want you to live, I want you to keep your spines so you can survive. I want you to live a long life. 

Am I going to pass? Not today or tonight, but tomorrow? Or the day after, or the day after? I am going to pass and so will my spines, but that, that that makes me alive is going to survive because I will leave my spines behind so we can hug with nothing in between, other than that, that that makes us alive.