THE FIELD OF MINES

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  A former Vietnam fighter became loved and appreciated among his neighbors, after returning from the war and settling in office and family, for his consideration with everyone and his readiness to help at any time. It did not seem to fit so much delicacy with the image of a soldier back from the war, and such a war. But he had his explanation, which his close friends knew.  

  His mission in the war had been to clear minefields. All that land of woods and brush, of skirmishes and ambushes, was strewn with treacherous mines that at the slightest contact with a branch, a wire, a stone in the road could explode and take the life of a man. And the greatest danger was for those who went ahead to detect, guess, deactivate death disguised on the ground.   

  You had to measure each step, calculate each gesture, risk each pull. Several of his teammates had died like this, and he knew that the same thing could happen to him at any moment. And that made him feel the value of life. Each step was worth an eternity. The whole life had to be lived between lifting one foot and returning it to rest on the uncertain terrain. Every moment was full of life because the next one could be full of death. All senses alert skin, all the heart lived in each beat, all eyes open to the brushstrokes of colors that discover the landscape, all sound analyzed in the spectrum that goes from the mine to death. Intense life in the minefield. 

  That was his secret. Live a day, live the minute, live instantly. Live the present. Life is a minefield.    

  Carlos G. Vallés -  New life     field.