Cracks

Changes

It all started when I was little because I did not believe in superstition. They are just that, empty beliefs. I heard the most about them from my grandmother. An undefiled believer dedicated to God who believes in superstition. There's nothing worse. Beware of black cats, don't spill salt, don't go calling for the ghosts, do not turn bread upside down ... Do not step on cracks. Cracks made me a nervous wreck. As a child you do not understand the world around you completely and do not know what it is hiding, it is the greatest curse of a child. Grandmother always warned me the most about the cracks. The poor senile old woman invented a new excuse each time why I should not step on the gap in the road. Beacuse those on the road are the worst, the most dangerous. They conceal the greatest darkness. Oh, like you can believe it. When you are small you're pretty dumb. Then I couldn't answer to my grandmother, I could not resist her. Now I know because I'm older, more educated and more insidious.

I know that the cracks in the road are formed by the action of winter and ice. Cracks are the remains of winter that remind us that winter was here and that it is as cold, wet and lifeless as the people of this city.

Now I am 20 years old. My senile grandmother is even older, but is still surprising me with some new superstition each day. I stopped answering to her warnings. My sources of knowledge have dried up. The old woman dried up all my attempts. Unsurpassed in fantasy as I am. Yet she wins.

I'm stuck in yet another walk with my grandmother. Condemned to eternal conversation with her. As a tunnel with no lights at its end. As long as I get a reward for each walk with her I'm not complaining. Nobody wants to deal with that old lady, not even her own son, my father. That's why I'm here, the heartless bitch that they like to call me.

"You've changed." In amazement I looked at grandmother. Her voice is serious, her eyes bright, smart. I watch her silently while sitting on a bench at the playground while she is next to me in her wheelchair. The playground is deserted in our neighborhood, as I believe in many others aswell. Because who else wants to go outside?

"You are not like the old days. You really have changed."

I want to tell her > we all changed grandma<. Over the years, nothing is as before; as it is even worse. I look at her in that chair with a blanket in her lap. She changed. She is no longer free, she is immovable. But her temperament has remained the same. We have all changed; My parents divorced and live together in the same house. The consequence of their love for money because why pay an apartment when we have a house already. My mother lives on the first floor while my father on the ground floor and they get along well until they meet in the same room. Ella moved out long ago. She doesnt call anymore. After the divorce of our parents she just disappeared. No one would have even asked for her if I have not found her. After a year of ignorance where my sister is all I looked for her while my parents didn't care for her. It is good she was gone. She created a healthy environment around herself. Only bad things happen around us, and out of all of us my grandmother remained the same. She never releases the old rosary from her hand. She moves her mouth with her eyes always closed as if is pronouncing an endless prayer.

"Why you?" I take a surprised look at her.

"What me?"

"Out of all why did you change my dear?" I look at her with a warm look in my eyes as much as I managed to make it look warm. This time I told her that we all have changed and so did I.

"No. We have all remained the same except you." looking at me seriously as it means what it says. Next to me I no longer see a senile old woman, she seems to have evaporated because beside me now you can see my old grandmother as she was when I was little.

"We've changed Grandma. My mom and dad the most. Would you 5 years ago ever even think they would divorce? Who knew that Ella has the strength to leave us? That she can leave us or you, Grandma? I never, never thought of it."

"I knew it all from the beginning. Your parents and sister are great actors. They were born to play. All this is their play for others and they are doing it very well. But you my dear" she stretched her old trembling hand toward my face and gently touched my face, "you became something you were never allowed to become. You turned from good girl in pink to a girl in black. It can not possibly be good."

Oh, there it starts again! "Grandma, I don't want to hear about your superstitions ever again. Even my tattoos will become haunted." I laughed at my own words. Grandmother removed her hand and squedzed my nose.

"Oww"

"These are not my superstition Rosalinda I feel your energy, your thoughts affect me because you are no longer my little girl."

My energy, thoughts??! Never was this mentioned. She is a believer and does not believe in the circulation of energy, and she never talked about it. She'd kill me if she knew that my hobby was magic and all supernatural. How can she know what I'm thinking? Oh, is she crazy?

"Too many questions my dear!"

"How?"

"You're still small enough to understand the world around you. It is not enough to have 20 years, you need to experience."

We sat in silence a little longer. After some time grandmother began to pray the Rosary. I waited for her. I watched her. I was thinking why I never believed in her God. What attracts her so much to him?

When she finished, we went home. I stood behind her and followed the trail down the street toward their house.

"Watch out for cracks, dear." She warned me.