Read the original Spanish version here.
by Ana Ruth Enriques
translated by Jessie Christensen
Today I intensely miss the beauty of autumn. A little less than a month ago, the trees colored the parks and the plazas with their red, orange, and yellow leaves. Their loss felt like a separation after a final embrace from the earth. And then winter arrived.
I cannot endure this dreadful season without you. A cold gust of wind seeps in through the window. Outside, the naked trees tremble nearly as much as I do. Marta came to prepare maté and brought cookies. Although it is three in the afternoon, we are huddled around the small table in the kitchen; there have been fewer naps in the sun since you left.
She reminds me so much of you! Sometimes her care for me makes me angry. But I am happy that she has brought back your oatmeal cookies…and this time she followed the recipe so well! Each bite is a window, a small break in the gray ice that surrounds me. I feel like I can see you again, in front of the oven, pulling out a pan of crunchy cookies. The warm scent of freshly toasted oatmeal hits me in the face, and with it I can feel the coming of spring.