The horse

My father was sitting in his armchair by the window. The window looked onto the seaside. The sea was growing dark.

We would go, one by one, to have our hair combed. Slowly walking towards the window by the seaside. The light was fading. It felt wet on our heads.

My father’s hands were unnecessarily strong, we wouldn’t run away. I was alone with him. It was painful, just for a moment. The sea was there, growing in the dark.

What else could a boy do but obey? With one hand he would grasp my jaw, with the other he held the comb, arranging my hair from left to right, like his. I felt the water coming down. It was painful. But somehow I enjoyed those brief encounters just before the dark. “Still”, he would say, as if I were a horse. And I imagined his face over my head, talking silently to me. “Ready”, he said, and I would leave trotting with my head slightly bent. Day was over.

Then my father was gone like a shadow. He was sitting in his armchair. Full of silence and sea by the window. But it was impossible for me to reach him from the outside. I would watch, with my head slightly bent, while we ran to the open field to scratch our backs with the rough grass of the meadows. My hair was no longer combed, it was a full mane waving in the evening air.

“The distance”, I said to my father once, “is great.” He wouldn’t answer back but I felt he understood. Then he grabbed me by my nape, with his usual strength, and we would go on walking silently.

When my father went into the sea my mother suffered. He swam in a neat straight line against the waves, through the waves and beyond, where the sea floated silently with him. It was hard for us, we could not reach him. But little by little we learned and we managed to get there, where he floated. But he wasn’t there any more, and my mother was shouting to us.

As a child he had gone only once to the sea. He lived by the mountains, on the opposite side of the country, so he moved from west to east and he reached the ocean for the first time. There he would go swimming with the lifeguards. They taught him how to swim right into the ocean without being afraid. Then he would lie on the hot sand with his tired body tasting of salt.

My father was sitting in his armchair by the window, remembering something I don’t know. That day in the morning he had been fishing from the shore. Patiently waiting by the shore while the sea breathed over his feet. I was sitting in the sand, digging. “Come”, he said. “I’ll teach you how to do it”. And he showed me three things: how to tie the knot, how to hook the fish and how to throw the line banging the rod over my head. It wasn’t easy, but little by little I learnt. Then he wasn’t there any more.

He was sitting in his armchair, remembering his father, who also sat in an armchair in the dark. Now I’m fishing by the shore. Waiting. I know how to wait. I know how to fish. But I can’t remember. Silently I listen to the sea. Blinded by the light. The eternal coming and going over my feet.

I swim down into the salty darkness.
The sea comes over me.
Then the sun.
I’m alone and I remember:

The horse stood in the dark. I didn’t move. I could hear his hooves on the wooden floor. It’s sound filled the still evening air, hitting the tall ceiling like heavy drops.
My hand moved slowly and touched his side.
He gave a nervous step.
“Shhh, still,”
I said,
and moved my hand through his hair as if I wanted him to sleep. He slightly bent his head. The night was beautiful. We could see each other in the dark.

I’m lying with my eyes closed. Shaking. Exhausted. I feel the sun coming over me and the sea breaking by my side. I’ve been too long in the water. The salt and the sun sting my eyes.

Then I’m standing by the meadow. Nobody is near. The immense sky is getting darker and the land grows sombre. I can hear hooves coming in a run. I gallop as fast as I can. Never reaching. The land is so vast. Silently I murmur to my father: “The distance is great,” but he won’t answer.

The horse has a crest, like the crest of a wave. I go down with the wave into darkness. Now the crest is fading in my sleep. The sea stands like a secret all around. The distance is great.