Kisses, but not to give them! Glory... the one they owe me!

Let everything as an aura come to me!

May the waves bring me and the waves take me,

and may they never compel me the way to choose!

****

I do not ask you anything. I do not love you or hate you. By leaving me,

what I do for you, for me you can do...

Let life make it worth killing me,

for it is not worth it for me to live!...

My will has died on a full moon night

when it was so beautiful not to think or want...

A kiss from now and then, without any illusion.

The generous kiss I will not give back!

Manuel Machado

I have never liked Tuesdays. Of the seven days of the week, if any of those is useless, it is definitely the second one, the only one that lacks any sense. Every other day has a meaning; they announce a start, an ending, they offer the pleasure of free time, of those university nights or just simply indicate that you are in the middle of the week, but Tuesday? On Tuesday you tend to accumulate the reluctance from Monday, you are an abyss away from Friday, even worse, to skip the alarm clock on Saturday morning. When someone says you have to do something three times a week, nobody thinks about Tuesday, it’s not even an option. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, have a balance, a melody, a compass, but Tuesday is just a dull, gray day, the silence in a musical pentagram. Everybody knows there is just nothing interesting to do on a Tuesday, as the saying goes: <<On Tuesday, neither marry, nor embark>>.

I woke up at six thirty in the morning, like every other Tuesday. Having slept not a lot but ok. The night before I stayed up late watching a movie on the couch and when it was over I refused the see the clock, to avoid having to count how many hours of sleep I had left. Not many for sure. As soon as the alarm clock went off I regretted everything, as usual, like someone with hangover promises never to drink again, I had sworn that night that I would go to sleep early. The light of day still hadn’t gone through the window shades and I had to search, blindly, for the night-light switch just so I didn’t bump a toe against the table when I got up from bed, or against the corner of the bed which was never in the same spot. I swear, the legs of the bed changed places every time, I am sure of it. With my eyes still on strike, watching for corners and trying not to make a sound, I went to get a shower.

Yoga is one of those hobbies that I practice three times a week, which on that morning I skipped for the only reason of it being a Tuesday. It had been more than five years since every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I went to a small studio near home to relax. I started to practice it thanks to a friend, she had become fond of yoga during a vacation in Los Angeles, and I recognize that, at least to me, I was doing very well. Not so much in the spiritual sense but in the physical. Since I practiced it I felt, literally, lighter. As if every responsibility was left at the studio door and when I walked out, all the problems weighted less. Not that I had many problems, and that sure helped, but the pleasure of dedicating seventy-five minutes to myself exclusively, sure prevented any stress outbreak.

With my hair still wet and a pink gum bathrobe my daughter picked out for me during a trip to Disneyland Paris, I went to the kitchen. That bathrobe was horrible and I looked worst in it than the doll showcasing it at the store but when my daughter looked at me with those innocent kitten eyes and she swore and promised that it was the prettiest bathrobe in the world and that I would be the most beautiful mother in all of Disneyland if I wore it, well, I couldn’t resist. I agreed to buy it and from that day on, I gave up looking at myself in the mirrors at home.

The empty fridge reminded me that I had to go to the store and buy some fruits and vegetables, even so, I managed to salvage two plantains, an apple, a mango and three kiwis for breakfast. Not bad for a Tuesday.

The ring of the cell phone made me aware that someone, before me, had already remembered my birthday.