When I was a little girl, my greatest wish was to bring everything inside, where it was nice and warm. Every night after going to bed, I used to close my eyes and pray for all the people and the objects I could think of, begging God not to leave anything out in the cold. The very thought that I might have forgotten something was unbearable. I desperately tried to think of everything – people and trees, dogs and street lamps, grass and buildings, toys, cars, elephants and birds.
It was like an exercise of memory. I did it with passion and conviction, as if it all depended on me, as if it was my duty to make sure everything was fine. I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, because once the door was closed, it would never open again. There were no second chances. I had to make sure nothing was forgotten. I can still remember the anguish coming with the realization that it was humanly impossible to think of everything, that it took just a little flaw in the memory, a little gap in the mind to lose something forever.
The world was a huge place and I loved all the things and the people in it. I didn’t want any of them to be lost, no matter how little and insignificant. The night out there was cold and lonely and the wind was blowing like a restless soul, but in my room it was warm and cosy. In my room, there was love.
As I grew up, I started losing more and more. The old anguish of leaving things out in the dark has never really left me, but it took another form. Every time I lost something or someone, it kept creeping back into my soul, as sharp as a knife, tormenting me. It spoke of unknown tortures like the power of remorse, the blow of despair and the thought that, no matter how hard we tried, it was not within our power to save the ones we loved. The world became a scary place, where everything seemed out of control.
Even now, after so many years, I’m still fighting in my mind to save as much as I can of the people and the objects around me. To protect them from the wind and the cold. It is so important to become aware of things, to touch them, to love them, to redeem them. In many ways, I’m still the anxious but determined little girl who wants to bring everything inside. The thought of leaving anything out still hurts me, and so does the realization that one day the door will close forever and there will be no second chances.