I had made my best to make sure nobody followed us. It never crossed my mind they didn’t have to, they only had to wait.

I don’t even recall any more what was it I wanted to say to Ichiro. All I can vividly remember is how, when I turned to face her, I suddenly saw a hole no larger than a button pop at the front of her white winter jacket. My mind was still trying to understand the meaning of this strange apparition when I noticed a cloud of fine pink mist and feathers forming behind her back.

Memory has a very strange way of erasing some details while virtually etching others right into our brains. Whenever I go back to that cold winter evening in Chiba Station everything becomes as fuzzy as a long forgotten dream. All I can see with vivid clarity is Ichiro’s face, the look in her eyes as she silently fell to her knees. It was not a look of fear or even anguish, if at all, it showed a vague puzzlement, as if she never really understood what was happening.

Only at the very few seconds before she finally collapsed forward to reveal the huge crater the explosive bullet had left in place of where her back used to be, did she show the slightest hint of surprised understanding. That look never had the time to fully form though, she was dead long before her body finally hit the snow.

It wasn’t until later, after the police had questioned me, that my hands and legs began shaking uncontrollably. There was no reason, of course, had they wanted me dead there was nothing that could have prevented it. As it was, I wasn’t a threat, not even a minor nuisance. In their books I was not even worth the cost of the single bullet needed to dispose of me.

I’d hardly known her (that much of what I told the police was thrue), so after a couple of days they returned my passport and I was sent to the airport on a small yellow cab.

The flight back to Mexico was a very lonely one indeed.

The tide crashed against the jagged edges of the rock, showering him in a gentle salty mist. There were clouds in the horizon, but neither numerous nor big enough to block the last shimmers of the setting sun in the distance.

How long had it been already? A year? Ten? He couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of his anguish when he first learned of this lenghty, lonely assignment. Time meant so little here.

A couple of sea-hawks were calling it a day and heading back to their nests, magnificent flying silhouettes against the blue-grey sky. It was getting cold, and it would soon be dark. He turned away from the sea and headed back to the old building.

The newer ships didn’t really need his guiding light anymore, GPS, weather radar and radio beacons made sure the onboard computers kept them exactly where they were supposed to be. Still, this WAS a lighthouse after all, what purpose would it have left if it had no light to house?

The old generator made soft groaning noises as he purposefully cranked it up. He made sure all the right switches were in place, and let the light shine into the night.

At the top of the one hundred and fifty four step climb to the observation deck (he had counted each one them during the first month of his stay) he held his breath for a moment, as he always did when he watched the last rays of day fade into the distance.

The old and battered chair was there, as usual, waiting for him right in front of the western window.

The sweeping light from the tower was clearly visible as a sparkling beam in the mist, stretching into the distance.

He sat facing the sea. It was so peaceful here.

Nell loved snow, she always loved to see it fall. Even in those terrible last days, when the pain was so strong she could hardly move, the only thing that brought a smile to her face was the sight of falling snow outside her window.

He would always remember the day he left her side for a few moments to get her a cup of hot tea. He came back to find her dead on her bed. Her eyes were still fixed on the window, watching the falling snow. He could still see her final smile, etched in her now cold lips.

A sudden breeze brought him back from his memories. He pulled his collar up his neck, watched the white-covered earth around him and, hearing the teapot whistling from the kitchen, headed back inside the cottage for a cup of tea.

I think this calls for a small celebration, and what better way to do it than with a song by my favorite band of all time that shows exactly how I feel?

“I’m gonna organize some changes in my life
I’m gonna exorcise the demons of my past
I’m gonna take the car and hit the open road
I’m feelin ready to just open up and go

And I just feel I can be anything
That I might I ever wish to be
And fantasize just what I wanna be
Make my wildest dream come true

I’m on my way
Out on my own again
I’m on my way
Out on the road again…”

I hope you enjoy it. As for me, I think I’ll open a good beer at lunch today and toast to the simple pleasure of enjoying life.

Cheers!

Today begins a new stage in my life, and with it comes a personal reflection.

Some time ago, one of my teachers said something that caused a great impression in me; “In this world, the only constant you will find is change.”

It’ funny how most of us find this simple phrase so evident as to consider it irrelevant or even trivial, but this only shows we don’t really understand it in it’s full dimension.

Even though we are certainly aware of change at it’s grossest level, after all none of us can deny the change a car suffers when a lamppost suddenly gets in it’s way, the truth is we stubbornly insist in being blind the more subtle change going on around us all the time. If you doubt this, just ask yourself sincerely, have you ever stopped to consider that each time you leave home might be the last one?

I’m sure most of you found this last question a bit extreme and even exaggerated, but all we need do is take a look at any newspaper to become aware what a real possibility this is.

Indeed our need for security and stability is so deeply entrenched that all it takes is a floor under our feet, walls around us and a ceiling above our heads to make us feel perfectly safe, even if these happen to be part of an extremely complex and fragile piece of machinery moving at missile speed three thousand feet above the ground… meaning most commercial planes in service.

Now, before you start taking me for an unrepentant pessimist, it might be good to return to the part where I said this is nothing but my personal reflection on change and impermanence, triggered by my current situation.

You see, after spending the last five years of my life exploring the world of ‘job security’ and ‘financial stability’ I have found myself thrust (or rather shoved) back into being my own boss, not to mention my own secretary, accountant, office boy, cleaning lady and sole employee… as well as the master of my own destiny.

This is a strange situation where at the same time I’m starting a new adventure into the unknown and the re-encounter with old familiar paths I’ve threaded for so long.

I don’t know what the future will bring, and to be quite frank it doesn’t worry me a lot lot because nobody does anyway. All I know is I’ll be doing what we all should do, follow the path without asking or giving quarter and facing whatever life brings, day by day.

No retreat, no surrender.

Alfonso Acosta

‘The KamikaZEN’

Next life may be better.
Tomorrow might be next life.
Do we know?