Dot... dot, do, dot, dot... dot

Every morning when I open my eyes, the first thing I see is a picture of Christina on my night table. She is smiling and looking at me. I remember clearly taking that picture. The picture gives me a familiar warm feeling.

Back in 1993, after escaping Canada to avoid deportation, under a leafy Floridian tree on a sunny afternoon, I was getting ready to write my first letter to Christina from the USA. I had so many things to tell her but my hand had refused to write. Then, with a very soft movement, I placed a dot in the middle of the page, followed by another dot, then another, and another, and another, and a rain of dots flooded the page with a chaotic cadence to make sense only later. As the dot madness intensified a picture of Christina and me started to emerge. After a while, in the same way I started this creation my hand stopped.

I looked at the picture and loved it, like a parent loves the first sight of a born child, signed it, and put it in the mail. No words, only my name, and the date. What else could I have added?

Christina loved that picture. I know where the picture is but it is very personal and it was only for her.

As the hours turn into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and years there is not a moment I do not think of my wife. On a sunny day, she would tell me "Jose, the early morning and the late afternoon hours are the best for taking pictures, the lighting is perfect. Colors have so much life in them, it is like they want to jump and dance!".

Millions of sensations also make my imagination hear her voice, and think of her. It could be music, a fragrance, a sound, a street, a beautiful tree, or food, the list is endless, just like the number of dots in my picture.

Comments

The Planner 00Iren

When I tell my daughters that their mother was amazing, I am not sure they grasp the magnitude of her stature. They tell me – “Yes dad, we know”. I remember the day I saw Christina the first time. It was in the halls of the chemistry department of Simon Fraser University. We both entered this long hallway at the same time, in opposite directions, in white lab coats, and we had the opportunity to take a good look at each other. When we passed our eyes crossed. She kept walking without turning but I looked back to see her disappear into one of the laboratories. “ Wow, I do not have a remote chance with that girl! ” Years later, after we reunited in Vancouver, she told me that she thought the same "- He is going to make a woman very happy one day" - She told me that she had no idea that it was going to be her. After I received the ultimatum letter from Canada Immigration, I was left with no option but to escape to the United States and avoid deportation and possible impriso...

A Thousand Pictures, Three Remain

A thousand pictures, scattered wide, Moments frozen, side by side. Laughter, sunsets, faces bright, Fleeting echoes caught in light. Yet in the haze of time's embrace, Only three still hold their place. One of love, so pure, so true, One of loss, a tear in blue. One of hope—a flame so small, Yet the dearest one of all. Yes, you have guessed right; I was not having a perfect moment then I discovered these pictures in my Blogger picture drive; fresh air from the past. I will sleep with a smile tonight.

It's been a Long Time Since I've Seen Her

To our daughters; I learned so much from your mother! She was my lover and my bosom friend. The summer of 1992 was running in earnest and Mom and I were escaping every day to many different places around the mainland. We were having the time of our lives! At the end of the summer, I did not have a penny left but was the happiest man alive! Mom had a white 1989 Chevrolet Cavalier station wagon. Her car smelled like a wet dog, Sam, her dog, was the main passenger before she met me. That car would break down every 100 kilometers or so and would run out of gas as soon as the gas red light went on, and guess who had to push; your Dad! But, we were like peas and carrots and as happy as they came. You always tell me - " Dad, you know strange old words and expressions no one uses these days! " Your mom is responsible for that! I learned what a "Sea Shanty" is in that white Cavalier listening to CBC radio. The station had a show on sai...

My Family After Tragedy

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