Ptitchitza u niskom letu

Dime me la verda!

All I want for Xmas is... You.

sings Maria(h) in probably the only song she sings that I really like.
In the night preceeding Xmas, Maria ("my" Maria) has shown herself to me briefly in a dream.

- You should eat something. - I said to her (in reversal of roles in which she was the one usually trying to encourage me to live healhier).
- I'll eat in the Zuid. - she replied with her beautiful, sincere and relaxed smile.

That was it. I was happy then, and carried the happiness silently throughout the day. Zuid (South) could have meant back home, at Venezuela or (as I liked to interpret it), somewhere in the South Rotterdam, where I live. With me. Yeah, keep on dreamin'... I would if I could!

That evening, our friends who run Thirsty Garry, Maria's (and by now mine too) home-bar from which she was conspicuosly missing for the last, almost, three months since I've last seen her, made a dinner for their regular customers (friends, really).

I was there with my brother and mother who were in a brief visit, finishing our dinner in an informal surroundings, when Maria walked in past our table to the back room.

Is it, is it... her? YES! My brain and heart recognised her in unison. I was terrified and happy at the same time.

Shortly after I approached her.

- Hi Maria. - I said with a smile. She was looking the other way.
- Hi Maria, - I repeated. "I wish you a very merry Xmas. My brother and mother are here, would you like me to introduce you to them?"
- No. - she said curtly, still not looking at me.
- It's good seeing you, Maria. - I said and left.

When leaving the bar later, I went to say my parting greetings to everyone I know. Maria was sitting next to Norman at the bar. I said 'bye', first to him, then to her. She was looking away and said nothing.

How she kills me silently and so efficiently is terrifying. How insulting I feel her avoidance of me is... it is, it is... HUGELY insulting, I cannot help but feel. Still, I accept it, without anger. At least she appeared, at least I saw her again with my own eyes. It is enough.

Why is my love for her such a problem, why is it a crime that needs punishing? I'm not imposing anything, I'm expecting nothing... except to see her there occasionally and that she at least looks me in the eyes and says 'hello' in return, with a smile.

That night I've dreamt of her again. We were laughing together as she was reading aloud some popularly held notions about the Germans.

Like A. Sidran said of Sarajevo...

The more I dream of Maria, the less I recognise her.
But, I do have dreams to remember. We've lived them together this summer, and they're mine to remember forever.

Maria made this year worth going through for me and perhaps saved me from succumbing to all the pain, misery and stress that came my way.

Maria is a Saint.

I say so!