Crying Over Paella

23 3 6
                                    

The words "I Love You" kill, and resurrect millions,

in less than a second.

—Aberjhani, Elemental: The Power of Illuminated Love

ALONDRA: Without the man of the house, will I survive? Jacaranda leaves are changing from green to brown, lavender blooms are falling like dust to the ground, leaving a song of emptiness.

Winter is here with my solitude and laziness, cups of coffee become better with sweet bread throughout rainy days; watching Christmas movies with a blanket pulled over my body and around my head, like I am Jesus at an air-conditioned psych ward, or homeless. Life for me without Estéfano is closing like a dying rose pressed between a book.

I am being brave and cooking paella for Ceci since she has begged me to, but I have immediately regretted the decision. I smell the saffron rice with peas and parsley, imagine the taste of the tender lemon chicken — instead of rabbit. I delight in these scents: sweet strips of red and yellow bell peppers, the delicate aroma and exotic taste of it all; my heart in this instant seems to have slowed down. Tears are sinking to the bottom of the pot. I have in a moment resurrected Estéfano in so many bittersweet ways; for instance: the times I would grab him as he washed the dishes for me when I was too busy with my writing. I remember a time we had just gotten back from work and he said, Te Amo, se me quema la tortilla when I hadn't heard him say this in days, maybe even weeks!

I have resurrected Estéfano's whole being, his essence. I can feel him here with me: watching me crying over paella.

Once Again, I Dreamt of WaterWhere stories live. Discover now