And as said Bécquer…


The dark swallows will return

On your balcony to hang,

Nests and again with the wing to its crystals,

Playing call.

I closed the cover of the book and I was looking at the ceiling. Whenever I read that poem, heart I shrank in a fist and breath I accelerated Recalling the day that he gave it me, the day in which it all began. His sweeping smile, his dark eyes changing colour according to how give you the Sun, his dimpled cheeks, his soft beard for several days under the yolk of my fingers and his brief but sincere words before leaving. Seemed so far away that I remember that sometimes didn’t know if it was real or fictitious; but when I held the book in my hands could not avoid a silly smile appeared on my face and hair from the nape of the neck I erizara to evoke those thoughts.

I looked out the window. The sky threatened rain and a cold wind was moving the bare treetops. Spring was delaying that year, too much for my taste. I wanted Sun, see the flowers open their petals and walk through the streets going me with perfume that gave off; but that year would take to enjoy the nice weather. I sighed after understand even if looking through the window, Sun’s rays wouldn’t make their way through the thick clouds with only wish it. I decided to dive back into reading. To read the first verses my imagination erupted in an explosion of colors. What better way to bring the long-awaited spring reading a poem by Becquer which speaks of the return of the swallows, that small and lightweight bird that appears in good weather on the balconies of the houses to fill the air with their joyful trills. Without realizing sentences, I fell asleep with a mind mired in a deep sleep filled with bright colors, with fresh water streams that bathe my bare feet. Wherever I look at a flower opening showing me with elegance and pride their petals red, yellows, purples, oranges. I felt like Alice in his fantastic journey to the Wonderland when he discovers the garden of flowers.

Several days later the beautiful dream, yet felt that pleasant tingling through my body; but when I looked out the window and it still saw the overcast sky staining the asphalt of a greyish, restlessness came over me. Previous years by that time already the sun shone and the street is filled with people who came out to enjoy the first rays; Although for me, the most important and what they craved, was the arrival of the first swallows, but they would only appear if a long warm, suitable for their young.

She looked sideways the book of poems by Becquer who was on my bedside table. For several days not playing it because it didn’t feel with forces to revive the beautiful memories that I brought. At that moment I understood perfectly that poem; those memories that will not return and my heart plunged into his deep sleep from which I would like to wake up. Damn swallows, where you are when you need? Why don’t they back from their long journey which they learned our names? The days passed and biting my nails with impatience, trying to calm my nerves that were to the surface for several weeks. I was trying to concentrate on my studies, but it could not prevent the view to deflect to the window trying to discover their familiar silhouettes, that characteristic tail and that orange beak that brought promises of return.

While I was reluctant to pick it up, I went back to read the poem of Bécquer as if a book of spells and thus could invoke to spring. And then I saw it, or at least I believed my tired eyes. I contemplated the sky starting to unwind for a few minutes and the first rays of Sun open passage through the clouds. I joined the bed slowly without losing sight of the blue sky. There were several black smears that were ahead of my window at high speed of describing small circles, zigzagging from one side to another. I got out of bed as fast as I could and opened the window wide. The ears I whistled when they arrived until them the familiar chirping. I closed my eyes, letting the gentle breeze to disheveled me hair and I was filled with that beautiful sound. The heart began to beat me with force: the spring had arrived and with it, the swallows.

-Mom, they have returned, they have returned -I screamed running into the kitchen with the chest inflated by emotion.

-Now I have account, daughter -my mother came back with a big smile and I could see more clearly what she was doing. It beating hard a whitish mass within a bowl with a wooden spoon. The mass of sponge cake smell flooded my nostrils. At last the time had come.

I sat at the table front her noting their movements with a wide smile on his face, wringing my hands, nervous and bobbed front legs backwards, unable to be me still.

-Would like to relax?

-I said my mother on one occasion when he saw that the nails had already disappeared and contemplated the possibility of starting to bite my fingers.

-Is that already have returned, are already here -said anxious.

-I know it, I know; but these nerves will not pass any.

I snorted collapsed. My mother was right, but the joy invaded my chest and couldn’t send it.

Then the doorbell rang twice. I looked at my mother with eyes wide and she nodded, reading my thoughts. I ran to the door and opened it a flip. There was he with his dark eyes glowing with force and that smile that I went crazy. I watched it for a few seconds, stopping me in the now familiar uniform Pearly of the Spanish Navy which had brought me so many headaches. I jumped me over it, embracing it with force and covering her face in kisses. He dropped his macuto to be able to surround myself with arms.

-Finally… Finally are here -I whispered him in the ear. I smiled and he kissed me with force. I closed my eyes, letting me take that warmth that invaded my body to feel it at the end near, suck your smell so familiar, I feel protected in his arms. I settled my head on his shoulder, he lifted me without effort and after take your macuto, came at home.

-As every spring, my little swallow…

The dark swallows will return…



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