A bright morning indeed.
It was a morning and at the time when children were still children and
were not absorbed and drawn in the midst to tablets and cell phones.
But the morning was truly clear ….
The cause of the events was totally unknown to me, as time passed during
the morning after the event, I overheard some minor details that seemed
to connect what had occurred that morning. But there was no reason for
me to understand the intricacies of what had happened.

Across the street, there was a hotel, I never paid attention to the building,
there was no reason for it, the front wall was green and it was part of the
landscape.

On the side walk where I was standing, and in front of me as an 8 year old
boy, was the body of a young woman lying on the ground, the left side of
her head was on the cement, her face was pale, almost white, her black
hair was partially in disarray but her face was not being obstructed by the
hair, her lips were partially open as though she was about to start taking
even though, there were no voice sounds or whispers. The rest of her body
was as it did not exist. Her face and eyes were the only parts of her body
that demanded and got my attention.

She was looking at me straight in the eyes.

She looked as if she was trying to understand it all, her presence on the
ground, her inability to move, perhaps noticing that she was unable to
voice anything, that she did not complain of pain, and who was the boy in
front of her watching her as she was lying on the ground?.
I am sure that at one time she became aware that she was right in the
midst of dying, of all things. The attempt of trying to understand of the
awareness of her dying. As Garcia Marquez wrote. “Me mataron” the
subject was still talking and sharing with someone that,
“I have been killed”.

She must have become aware that the answer to all her questions was
totally irrelevant because she was rapidly dying! And after that instant, the
instant of death, all ceases, I mean, All!

Then I noticed it, there was a bullet hole on the right temple of the
woman’s head, a very small amount of blood was visible but the hole was
clear, the whiteness of the temporal bone was clearly there.

Her eyes and mine locked in an instant, long enough for me to realize that
there was life in her eyes. Then her life ceased, simply there was no more
life as though someone had turned it off.

The body of death woman was in front of me, an 8-year-old boy. I did not
try to understand a thing but a young woman had just died in front of my
eyes and that was not a common act to witness in the mornings, not a
common thing to any person, any morning. I witnessed her dying no
different than if I had witnessed the passing of a flying butterfly, as a
natural event.

As I began to walk away, to my left side I saw a man running on the
sidewalk, he was wearing a white shirt and as he was running, he was
holding a gun with both hands. His passing not far from me, perhaps 10
feet was very fast, I did notice that his hair was black…..
The look of her eyes has remained with me all these years. I have always
wished that the looking in the eyes of an innocent young boy was a vision
that was comforting and helped her to die and find her peace.
C U next Wed.

Checosz