everything is illuminated.

Volvías a mi casa, a darme la mano; una y otra vez; siempre con una sonrisa, siempre con algo que contar. Otra de tus locas aventuras al ritmo de Bowie, o algún cuento de princesas con final feliz. He de reconocer que esperaba tus historias como esperaba cada aliento para comprobar que seguía viva. Las esperaba con tanta ansia que soñaba con ellas; cuando no podía alcanzarlas, las inventaba yo. Así empecé a escribir. Claro esta, cuando tu venías dibujabas tanta luz en mi habitación, que al lado, mis historias parecían un libro de lectura para niños. Y es que, bien es verdad Henry, existía una gran diferencia, y es que las tuyas eran reales. Eran de verdad. Eran vida. Tú habías sentido el viento en la cara, el sudor, habías sentido la adrenalina recorriendo todas tus arterias. Y por eso, llegabas a mi cuarto y te sentabas en mi cama, y era todo tan fácil, que parecía que me llevases en brazos al mar, a los viejos bares de la ciudad, o incluso a tocar el cielo de tus viajes. Eran vida y por eso me daban la vida. Era feliz. No me sentía tan viva como cuando tú me cogías la mano, con los ojos en llamas, en la cima de tu pequeño cuento, desde antes del accidente. Y lo mas raro de todo Henry, lo peor, o quizás lo mejor, es que no sentí envidia de ti, nunca. ¿Y sabes por qué? Porque me hacías creer, Henry. Me hacías volar en tu fantasía cuando me faltó la mía, y era tan feliz…quise ir contigo. Quise ir contigo cada día cuando te despedías y te girabas hacia la puerta, quería detenerte. No dejar que pasara ni una aventura más sin que te siguiera de la mano, para siempre. Si pudiera. Al mismo tiempo sabía que jamás sería capaz de contarte lo que sentía, lo que de verdad ocurría cuando me cogías de la mano. Eres uno de los pocos amigos que me queda. No solo no quiero perderte sino que quiero agradecerte siempre, todos los días que me queden, todo lo que has hecho por mí sin quererlo, y cada segundo de felicidad que yo pueda darte será un destello comparado con lo que me haces sentir cuando me miras a los ojos. Te quiero Henry. Llévame contigo. 

........ 

You came back home, to give me your hand; once, and once again. Always a smile, always something to tell. Maybe another of your crazy adventures at Bowie’s rhythm, or some princess fairytale with a happy ending. I have to admit I waited for your stories like I waited for the next breathe to realise I was still alive. I waited for them so hard that I dreamed about them; whenever I couldn’t reach them, I invented them myself. That was how I started to write. Let’s say, of course, when you came, you drew such light in my room that my own stories seemed a stupid reading book for kids compared to it. And it is true, Henry, that I am missing a big difference, because yours were real. They were truth. They were life. You felt the wind on your own face, the sweat, you felt the goosebumps running through your skin. And that is the reason why you went into my place, and, sitting in my bed, everything seemed so easy, that I could even see me in your arms swimming in the see, or us together at the old city Bars, or even sometimes I felt I could touch the sky of your trips. They were life, and so they gave me life. I was happy. I had never felt so alive like when you took me by the hand, with the flames in your eyes, in the top of your own tale, since the accident. And the weirdest thing Henry, maybe the worst, maybe the best of all, is that I never felt sort of jealousy, never. And you know why? Because you made me believe, Henry. You made me fly in your own fantasy when mine had died, and I was so happy…I wished you go with you. I wanted to follow you every day; when you said goodbye and you turned around to open the door, I wanted to stop you. I would not allow any other adventure without me and you, by the hand, forever. If I only could. At the same time I knew I would never be able to tell you what I really felt, what really happened when you take me by the hand. You are one of the last friends I still have. I would never want to lose you; in fact, I want to thank you as far as I can, every and each day of my life, everything you did for me without knowing, and every second of happiness I may give you, will be a glimpse of what you make me feel every time you look me in the eyes. I love you, Henry. Take me with you. 

feel the adventure in your feet