With a guide in my hand, I paid attention to each street, in order to memorise which stops were interesting to me in that line, and so I did every time we dro-pped or took passengers to a destination on the map and looked for nearby bui-ldings of my interest.
I learnt that when one has little time you have to make the most use of it to fulfil your mission.
That is what I did and for that reason I looked for those places where people of faith were gathered, that made it easier for me so I didn’t have to go looking for them house to house.
I got off at the last bus stop, it was really a long journey back, but before cat-ching the bus back to the motel I wanted to walk a little and meet people be-cause in spite living in a great country with its own idiosyncrasies, each city has its own style and in this one, each space has its own identity.
It was a working class neighbourhood with the tenor of the large buildings that as beehives gave shelter to thousands of neighbours. The scarce green spaces around it and the lack of equipment for leisure activities, gave a clear idea that its inhabitants were too busy in their constant daily job to be wasting their ti-me sitting in a park to read a newspaper.
I walked a little further and I noticed the vehicles, these were somehow old and in spite of their careless appearance it was because of their daily use. Cer-tainly they were used to carry entire families, leaving each person at their pla-ce of work or study centre before ending up in some parking inside the buil-dings built exclusively to serve as parking lots.
A whole tower buildings that were used daily by thousands of workers who knew that they would not find a free space to park on the street.
I continued walking, I spotted by surprised that there was hardly any dirt in the streets, this is something that I had already noticed in other cities in their wor-king class neighbourhoods. The more humble the population was, the better taken care of were their common areas, as if they knew that no one was going to come and fix what they did not take care of themselves.
I continued walking and I found a small church in the middle of an open field, it was a tiny apartment in the shadow of two big buildings. I wanted to enter, but when I got closer I saw a sign on the door announcing the business days and hours indicating that the rest of the time it remained closed.
Going downstairs the entrance of the temple, ready to start my journey back to the motel, an elderly lady who was passing by wearing a pretty jazzy flower dress, greeted me saying,
-Young man, it’s early for mass, two hours left still.
- Yes ma’am, I am new in the city and I just checked to see if it was open for a visit.
- It’s been long since they opened on non ceremonial days. When I was a child, the house of the Lord was always open at any time, one could go in and pray, have a short quiet time and then continue their way, but now it’s different, everyone is too in a hurry to even realise that there is a church. It seems to me that even the priest is in a hurry and for that reason he does not even have time to open before his time.
I thanked her for the information and as I had found her a nice lady I cordially asked her,
- Can I give you a gift?
- I am not as old as I look, which woman would not like to be given a gift?, but I don’t think I know the reason for it, she said surprised.
-I have no reason to share my day, I just want you to be happy.
-Oh, then yes.
That said, without waiting any longer, I placed my right hand on her forehead and after a few seconds, I took it back and said,
-That is it, I hope you have a nice day.
She seemed transposed, with a strange smile of happiness, like the one a girl puts on when she is in her mother’s arms, it took her a while to react and by then the man had gone.
As fast as I could, in haste, but not rushing, I went back to the hairdresser whe-re I had left an important conversation with my friends, whom I had shared a a major part of my morning with. But my responsibilities to my grandson, who I had to make lunch for, had made me leave that ludic moment to go back home. When I arrived at the door of the hairdresser I opened it and as I entered I greeted everyone and one of them seeing me asked,
-Did you forget something? Well, we thought you would be cooking already.
Another added before I could answer,
-Hey, girl, why have you got a stifling? Did anyone hit on you on the way and you came back to share it with us? And everyone laughed at at the joke.
-Something way better I said, and at once everyone was in silence.
-Better than getting a compliment at our age ?, Tell us, because we are interes-ted -stated the first.
-I met a man …
-Well, introduce him to me, said another, interrupting me, and they all laughed again.
- Seriously, girls, this one had a special look
- Go on baby, said the woman from behind again and they all laughed again.
-And then he touched me with his hand and I felt a heat …
-Stop that girl, there are innocent people around here, you are really flushing, said the first one, cutting me off and everyone laughed again.
I was feeling very comfortable for no reason, but it seems that my happiness was spreading to others, because even though we were matured women, nor-mally that place served to discuss what we cared about, the problems of our youth, unemployment, how expensive life was …
Instead, we were now laughing so nicely, not worried about any of the strug-gles we had to face daily.
I left them with the sensation of having had a good time and feeling very well, my friends in their farewell told me that when I had another day like this I should not hesitate to pass by and that if I found the man again I should ask for his phone number, as there were several single candidates willing to let themselves to be touched.
I was going down the street as if I were on top of a cloud, remembering the many witticism of my friends, laughing at the jokes they said, it was a won-derful feeling that enveloped me.
Being above fifty , I do not remember a moment as pleasant as this, despite the fact that I have lived very good ones, like the day I got married, when I had my daughter or when she had my grandson.
Maybe those three were the most outstanding, but all the good moments were those ones sharing joy with others, but now it was different, I felt happy from within and was able to participate in that happiness, as if I had a fountain with the mouth of the pipe broken in me and happiness was gushing out of me.
I got to the gate of my house , I opened an iron bar; his was a security measure that the community had had to take to prevent outsiders from getting in, or at least to make it a little bit harder.
Anyway, one day after another someone would complain about being robbed and this was a humble neighbourhood we were talking about.
The truth was that, in our houses we had the essentials to live, no kind of luxu-ry, in spite of that people would still steal what they found, the could either steal a toaster or a radio.
On my way to take the lift I came across one of those difficult-to-treat kids, a refugee as I called them, they walked through life drawing away from the rest so as not to hurt them, because they looked very tough and rude.
Normally, if it were before I would have been intimidated and let him go up alone and then take the lift when it was free, but I was feeling too good to be afraid, so when the lift came down I opened the door for him to get in. He was surprised by his reaction and the look on his face.
-Good manners are for others, I said with a smile.
The man held the door putting his hand over my head and said,
-Please, go first.
I thanked him and I entered , once both of us were in the lift, he asked me,
- Where are you going today?
-Well, I’m going to see my grandson, I’m sure he is already acting out because his meal is not ready yet, you already know how kids are.
