Paseando al perro en la nieve,
s/f
Fuente: https://www.etsy.com/
It snowed last night.
It’s not unusual in March, but at this point in the winter one says: Enough!
I promise this will be the last time I mention the cold and winter for a good while.
I left early to walk the dog, Panda, that I’m taking care of these days, perhaps some of you remember her.
There was not a soul in the extensive meadow, but my feeling of loneliness was questioned by the number of footprints in the snow.
I felt like I was in the middle of an invisible crowd.
There were footprints of all kinds; human, canine, deer, goose, and even rabbit; I have learned to identify them. Thank God there were no bear footprints, those are just awakening from their long hibernation.
The footprints converged, diverged without order or pattern, carving improvised brushstrokes on the whiteness of the canvas.
A map of presences.
I remembered an article I wrote almost 19 years ago when we moved to Canada and which I dedicated to my Venezuelan compatriots and coworkers. It was called “Footprints in the Snow” and it spoke about that legacy that we leave behind us, honest, profound, joyful, the essence of our nationality.
Panda and I finished the walk in silence.
And that would have been the end of this boring story, if it weren’t for the fact that, at the end of the afternoon, we returned to the park for the second walk of the day.
The snow had melted and so the footprints of winter.
Before us was a bright puddle.
It made me want to splash in the water that announced the longed-for spring, I felt like offering a dance of gratitude.
I restrained myself so I did not look like a crazy old woman.
Panda and I finished our afternoon walk with joy in our hearts.
The first shoots of hope, I mean, greenery are beginning to appear.
“In the midst of winter,
I found there was, within me,
an invincible summer”.
Albert Camus
Today she shares her “impulsive meditations” from Calgary, Canada, where she lives.
leonorcanada@gmail.com