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My life was linked to his, my first love. Carlos, my black man, as I affectionately called him, we shared so many happy moments, which now pains me to remember. We had made plans together. To get married and have children, to live in a house in the country, with animals. We both love dogs and cats. But one day all that castle we had built in the air, collapsed for me, the day after our graduation.

—My love! I need to talk to you! 

That love sounded strange to me, it didn't have the same sweet and affectionate intonation with which he used to call me.

—I told him?, —trying to stay calm and not get carried away by my mania of thinking negatively.  


—I have been analyzing our future, I think that, for both of us, it is better that we end this relationship. I have plans to leave the country, to work on an offer that was made to me. I don't want to be selfish and take you away from your family. 

Like he doesn't want to be selfish?. But he is thinking only of himself?. But what's going un? My thoughts were going faster than my ability to give him an answer. 

—But Carlos! When you made that decision? You had to ask me first what I want. I don't mind going to another country, as long as it's with you.

—But your parents are older!, and you are their only daughter.

—That's no excuse!, they will understand why they want to see me happy. And this will make me very unhappy. Don't go Carlos! Please!

—I'm sorry, I've already made the decision and I'm leaving in two days, please understand,—and he walked away without looking back.

At that moment my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Since that day nothing makes sense to me, I have lost the joy of living. My parents are very distressed, but there is nothing they can do. They talked to me and tried to comfort me, but I was useless. Every day in my  bedroom, lying in bed... staring at the ceiling, almost in the dark.  I eat little and have lost a few pounds. Thin, pale, with a haggard face, not dressed up, I'm really pitiful. But who do I feel sorry for? Myself. I have a profession, I am a veterinarian and before Carlos left me I thought about helping homeless animals, but I have become one of them. 


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—Daughter, come here!—I hear my mother calling me —I need your help!

I stand up with total reluctance and leave my bedroom, the light hits my eyes.

In the living room, my mother has a bird on her lap.

—It's hurt!, —she tells me,—it must have come in through the yard, I found it lying there.

—I go over to look at it and tell her, I can't do anything, let it die in peace.

—But daughter! don't be so cold, you can help him, come... take him in your hands, he is still breathing. 

—I think he has no desire to live and that's why he looked for this place.

—All right, I'll leave him here, as you say, so he can die in peace. —And she puts him in a small box with an old flannel.  He walks away and leaves me there, alone with the bird.

I sit and watch him, he closes his little eyes and moves his wings very slowly. Its black and yellow colors are bright.  It is a Cristofué and its name comes from the sound it makes when it sings, it seems to repeat those words Cristofué! Cristofué! Cristofué!.  

I move away from there, I can't watch it die. And I return to my room, to my voluntary confinement, to my sadness. But the image of the bird does not leave my mind. And making an effort to move again, I go out to see it.

I look for the little box, and there he is, but this time his eyes are looking at me, and he flaps his wings harder.  "I think you are a fighter little bird!". I take him in my hands and feel the warmth of his body and his energy. You're right it's worth living, out there are the other birds, the trees, the light and warmth of the sun, the rain, the flowers, the breeze, the clouds. You can't quit so soon, go out and enjoy all these wonderful gifts.  He flies and I follow him with my eyes, I feel alive again. 

I go up to my room.  I put on a pair of jeans and a yellow and black sweater. I fix my hair with a ribbon and look in the mirror.  I look beautiful. I run downstairs and go to the kitchen.

—Mother I go for a walk,—hug her and give her a kiss.

She is amazed at what she sees but she is happy, I'm sure.

—What a joy daughter, all the best! 

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