This post may get very serious very quickly, but Café Parrilla, the next story in Café Chronicles, is one door down from La Albahaca Café on Carrera 4a in the Upper Chapinero area of Bogotá and is very similar in a number of ways. They also offer a special of the day, so often, I would check the chalkboards in front of both places before making my choice. I also like to switch things up and not go to the same place too much. The thing about Café Parrilla is that there seemed to be more motorcycles out front most of the time. They must have had a booming delivery service.
Let me get right to the point here. There is a story that I avoid in the tale, but I do hint at it. It is true that in grade school, I wanted to be a writer, but that desire was slowly supplanted by doubt and people constantly telling me I needed to focus on getting a real job. I don’t think I ever really stopped writing. I remember writing things in high school and plays and short stories in college. I did very little with my writing and have always had this nagging regret when it comes to that.
I am still avoiding the point. The story has to do with the other character. I don’t want to give away too much, and I think I obfuscate fairly well in the short story, but the piece has to do with my memories of someone who committed suicide. I don’t think of him often, but I do still think of him, and I’m not sure why. I have memories of conversations that probably never happened, or maybe it is just that conversations grew up as I aged, and since we are unable to have grown-up conversations, those have to suffice. In some ways, they are frozen in time, and in other ways, they seem to be very present.
The other thing that happens is that the story is light and has humor to it. I think I did this more as an homage than anything else. If we had grown up writers, we would have been irreverent, and I like to imagine that he would appreciate the tone of the piece. Or maybe he would call bullshit on my story and tell me that it was too short and avoided way too much of the subject. In any case, I dedicate this story to him.
Lastly, keep stepping, and above all, keep writing.
Henry James Morello 