She is staring out of the smudged glass window, watching the people below as the hurry into the cafes to take shelter from the rain.
Today is her 82nd birthday, there was singing in the background.
“Happy birthday dear Nana.”, They sang in unison.
Her son was holding a birthday cake and asked, “Mother would you like a slice of your birthday cake?”
She didn’t react or take her eyes away from the view outside.
The street was empty, there was no movement no sign of life, nothing.
Anything that wasn’t inside a concrete building would be soaking wet in no time.
Her family begins to ear their slices of cake and watch her sitting by the window with her eat pressed against the cold glass as she listens to the rain drops hitting the window.
They knew that if they moved her away from the window she would get very upset like she did a long time ago, she held her breath until they rolled her back to the window.
The room was filled with laughter and talking, but everything went by her.
She was staring directly across the street at the apartment building she used to live in.
Ever since the earthquake that struck twelve months ago split it in two, it was nothing more than a bunch of ruins just like her mind.
The doctor said she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
Her eyes glance on the exposed vertical row of bathrooms and rusty pipes protruding out of them, empty bedrooms and accessional children rooms with withered clown print wallpaper.
She looks at the apartment she lived in before, and at the picture of her husband hanging on a small remainder of the living room wall.
Rain was filling some of the tubs and water was coming back out of the pipes, some pieces of walls crumble and fall down onto the pile of rubble.
They were talking about her, and discussing if they should put her in a retirement home that can take care of her instead of her oldest son.
Not long after that all her children and their children left, and it was just her and her oldest son again, who has been taking care of her for over five years now.
And every day just before nightfall he goes out to the local deli to pickup things for dinner, today was no exception.
She sat there watching the rain drops glide down onto the windowsill and he went outside.
When he got out onto the streets he looked up at the window and waved, she did nothing.
Right when he cuts the corner to go to the deli she gets up from her wheelchair and walks to the front door, puts on her raincoat and rain boots and picks up the umbrella next to the door and goes outside.
The streets were still deserted and she’s standing in a puddle of mud and begins to hum one of her favorite songs.
She dances around on the street, skipping puddles, twirling around lampposts, doing tricks with her umbrella.
“Well, hello there.” A deep voice behind her said.
She turned around to see who it was.
Her jaw dropped wide open, it was Gene Kelly.
“You are..” She muttered.
“Gene Kelly.”, Gene Kelly said.
“How could this be? And you look so young.”,
“Must be something in the water.”, He says as he holds his hand to catch some of the rain drops.
She laughs and grabs his hand.
They dance around in the streets doing the same routine from the movie ‘Dancing in the rain’ until she hears her son calling her.
“MOM!?” He yells from across the street.
She stops dancing and lets go of Gene’s hand who disappears right after, she’s a bit confused about what had just happened and walks over to her son.
He walks over to her and asks, “What were you doing?”
“Dancing with Gene Kelly.” She replies.
He appears to be confused but before he could go into it any further the ruins across the street begin to collapse, covering the entire street in dust.
Today is her 82nd birthday, there was singing in the background.
“Happy birthday dear Nana.”, They sang in unison.
Her son was holding a birthday cake and asked, “Mother would you like a slice of your birthday cake?”
She didn’t react or take her eyes away from the view outside.
The street was empty, there was no movement no sign of life, nothing.
Anything that wasn’t inside a concrete building would be soaking wet in no time.
Her family begins to ear their slices of cake and watch her sitting by the window with her eat pressed against the cold glass as she listens to the rain drops hitting the window.
They knew that if they moved her away from the window she would get very upset like she did a long time ago, she held her breath until they rolled her back to the window.
The room was filled with laughter and talking, but everything went by her.
She was staring directly across the street at the apartment building she used to live in.
Ever since the earthquake that struck twelve months ago split it in two, it was nothing more than a bunch of ruins just like her mind.
The doctor said she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
Her eyes glance on the exposed vertical row of bathrooms and rusty pipes protruding out of them, empty bedrooms and accessional children rooms with withered clown print wallpaper.
She looks at the apartment she lived in before, and at the picture of her husband hanging on a small remainder of the living room wall.
Rain was filling some of the tubs and water was coming back out of the pipes, some pieces of walls crumble and fall down onto the pile of rubble.
They were talking about her, and discussing if they should put her in a retirement home that can take care of her instead of her oldest son.
Not long after that all her children and their children left, and it was just her and her oldest son again, who has been taking care of her for over five years now.
And every day just before nightfall he goes out to the local deli to pickup things for dinner, today was no exception.
She sat there watching the rain drops glide down onto the windowsill and he went outside.
When he got out onto the streets he looked up at the window and waved, she did nothing.
Right when he cuts the corner to go to the deli she gets up from her wheelchair and walks to the front door, puts on her raincoat and rain boots and picks up the umbrella next to the door and goes outside.
The streets were still deserted and she’s standing in a puddle of mud and begins to hum one of her favorite songs.
She dances around on the street, skipping puddles, twirling around lampposts, doing tricks with her umbrella.
“Well, hello there.” A deep voice behind her said.
She turned around to see who it was.
Her jaw dropped wide open, it was Gene Kelly.
“You are..” She muttered.
“Gene Kelly.”, Gene Kelly said.
“How could this be? And you look so young.”,
“Must be something in the water.”, He says as he holds his hand to catch some of the rain drops.
She laughs and grabs his hand.
They dance around in the streets doing the same routine from the movie ‘Dancing in the rain’ until she hears her son calling her.
“MOM!?” He yells from across the street.
She stops dancing and lets go of Gene’s hand who disappears right after, she’s a bit confused about what had just happened and walks over to her son.
He walks over to her and asks, “What were you doing?”
“Dancing with Gene Kelly.” She replies.
He appears to be confused but before he could go into it any further the ruins across the street begin to collapse, covering the entire street in dust.
