Breathe
By Mónica Hernández
That time flies is not a secret, nor that it is a human invention to have a grip, a control. But there are moments in the life of every person when this becomes a painful reality. Painful in a sweet sense, yes, but that does not mean that it will not leave scars in the soul, that place where band-aids do not reach. That day comes for each person on a different day, at a different age. When the bell does not ring, as in the Polar Express movie starring Tom Hanks' cartoon. The day you stop believing, the day the first layer that protects innocence falls off.
In my particular case, when I turned 12 years old, my father invited me to go with him to get presents for my younger sister, who, by the way, was just as aware as I was of the secret that "Santa" and the "kings" had in their hands. I guess it was the usual formula to make you understand without explaining. Now, being on the other side, I noticed that the suspicion had been there for a couple of years, maybe three, manifesting itself in that the letter appeared on the tree just before the creature went to sleep, when years before the letter was made together and she told me everything she was going to ask the fat goody-goody that she would have to be creative, because in my house there is no chimney. So he asked me, in a direct and precise way: and how did you do with Santa's gifts? The question touched my heart and made me smile. -You made it very difficult for us. So we had to ask Santa's elves for help. The smile he gave me back was one of condescension. I had to explain to him that the "elves" were his older brothers, who we sent as spies to find out the contents of those letters to Santa that he so jealously guarded in a locked box, hidden in a closet and wrapped in a pound of duct tape. I sigh with a pain in my chest, where a crack has opened. A stage has been covered and the bittersweet taste of evaporating innocence remains.
