The Rain and the Window: Anxiety of Abandonment

The Rain and the Window: Anxiety of Abandonment

The boy spent hours by the window in his room. No one would see him; no one cared, and he didn't even want to be seen while unleashing his imagination to conquer loneliness. His broken voice couldn't compete with the taunts, and his arms couldn't face the onslaught of the elements. Nevertheless, day after day, he waited patiently by the window in his room.

The rain came, the television told stories of zodiacal warriors, and he remained motionless at the edge of the window, gazing at the street. Hours passed, then weekends, and sometimes even weeks, but his waiting never ceased. Occasionally, he blocked out all noise and isolated himself from distractions, not to miss the sweet jingle of the keys at the entrance door, signaling someone's arrival.

And so, time passed, keeping his thoughts, longing for the company of a cat that didn't know it was supposed to love him and always returned with a different body to keep him from being alone. The rain continued, breaking the nights with its rumble. Despite it all, the intensity of the sounds, the drumming of the raindrops on the pavement, and the thunder shaking the window misted with patience calmed him and gave him a sense of companionship as he imagined the echo of the water becoming the sound of a river.

"Everything will be fine, everything will be fine," he repeated to himself while caressing his left arm and holding that hand, a gesture of affection that he was beginning to give himself. He was sure, this time, absolutely sure that she would come—his mother. She would come with a delicious dinner, perhaps tacos or sweet bread, his favorites, and with more hugs than a mischievous child with an incomprehensible voice like his deserved.

But minutes turned into hours, and the tears that died in the night continued, and he remained by the window. Unable to sleep, with no food in the refrigerator, an absent sister seeking refuge at her boyfriend's house, and cats that disappeared, partly because he trimmed their whiskers and partly because no one wanted them anymore. This made him feel sorrow. Only when the soothing voice of the summer storms surrounded him did he calm down, letting himself be carried into dreams. The voice that told him everything would be fine turned into another, her voice, singing him a lullaby with the rain. Finally, he fell asleep by the window, repeating that everything would be fine, that everything would be fine—anxiety over abandonment embraced by a rain of light.