IN FRONT OF THE WINDOW, LOOKING AT THE RAIN

I'm sitting in front of the window watching the rain fall in torrential form. It rains since dawn, it seems like a flood. I am well sheltered, because it is very cold, my hands and feet are numb, meanwhile I drink a cup of Guarapo de Café.

I see how the street fills with water, floods, dragging branches of fallen trees and trash, and I think of all those people who run by, who have to leave at this time to work. It is sad to go out into the street with the terrible problem of lack of transportation, given that there are no trucks anymore, only those trucks where they load the cattle and now carry people. There they will have to climb, because there is no other, you have to get to the workplace, because if you do not run the risk of being fired; and go see, have to work for a salary, a salary that really is not enough to buy an egg carton and much less to buy a kilo of meat.

But even so, we have to make the sacrifice, get up early, every day, because we all have obligations and responsibilities, a family to support and we have to make the daily sacrifice, regardless of whether we have to get out and get wet, under this rain. risk of getting sick.

It's still raining harder, the wind is getting worse, which already has a hurricane-like tone, it seems like it wants to tear off the roof of the house. Now you can not see anything through the rain, it's practically a white curtain, of how strong this shower is falling. For those who live in the countryside and have a land planted this rain is a blessing. I still think, my God, but those of us who live here in the town, in the city, who do not have that sowing, or a different form of work, we have to go out to work every day, under this inclement rain. My legs and hips begin to ache, my Osteoporosis manifests.

I would like to stop thinking about this tragedy, I would like to put my mind in blank, have another kind of thought but I can not. The least I should think about is food, but it is inevitable. Because at this time I should be having breakfast. And I think although I should not, in an Arepa with fried eggs scrambled, cheese, ham, butter and coffee with milk, God! To do it is to torture me, because I have nothing to eat. I better finish taking this coffee guarapo, which I made with the waste that I left yesterday, to wait for the end of the rain, to go out to the street to my daily routine, to the routine that we are subject to. Venezuelans, to see if today I am lucky and I get my medicines.