Sé coser, bordar, tejer a dos agujas y al crochet, escribo alguna que otra pelotudez que publico desvergonzadamente en mis blogs, me gusta cocinar, sé hacer supremas maryland con bananas fritas y todo, amaso spaghetti, sorrentinos, gnocci, hago lasagnas y canelones caseros... sé asar corderos y lechones, puedo manejar un tractor y cambiar una canilla monocomando. Hasta soy capaz de leer un manual de instrucciones de alguna herramienta y entender de qué se habla.
After leaving her, I sat down inside the car. I couldn’t avoid looking at the drawing that said for dad on the back seat.
I jumped off the vehicle. I ran into the building. Entered to where it was supposed to be. I found myself in a dark, empty room. I checked a few rooms to the right of the hall, a couple to the left. Out of nowhere a man bumped into me. He was dressed with a green shirt and a white overall. I never forgot the look he was then giving to me. I never forgot the words which came out of his mouth.
- Sir, we were looking for you. I am very sorry. She passed away this morning. There was no pain, she was asleep.
There is not such a better thing than being a father. However I wished her mother were with us. I miss Her, so much, so often. Nevertheless, she reminds me to her mother. They had the same little nose, same golden-weaved hair, same likes in terms of cloths, and indeed they shared their very good taste on them. Not to ignore in any way, those light blue eyes were all mines. Of course, with here mom, we also shared to her. We devoted our passion, time and over all of it, our heart.
“Feels something like summertime
Top down ain't nothing but time
Radio's on and you're by my side
Feels something like summertime
- You know, I like this song you’ve picked dear. Oh! Shall we go to the beach next? Or, how about we’ll go find you something nice later this afternoon, huh? As it is said, Life is too short to watch it pass by.
- Finally in home… for a few. I’ll go visit Her. It’s been a while and I’m pretty sure those last flowers which were left are not still red, nor very alive. You may stay if you don’t feel like coming; I’m not making you if you don’t want to. Did I ever tell you she was as pretty as you?
- Honey! I’m home! Did you miss me mu-
I was frozen, my fingertips were shaking. I felt a very cold sensation climbing through my back; it was as if my blood had been injected with ice in less than a second. I saw her, immobilized, laying on the ground, not moving at all. For a second, my body didn’t respond to my thoughts, but I wouldn’t stay there. I could not allow myself to fail, not again.
I dropped all what I had on me; I picked her still warm body, grabbed the car keys and sat her in it. I finally arrived to the emergency room, and a couple of minutes had passed by, in what it seemed to be like hours to me. All of a sudden she was surrounded by professionals taking care of the one I loved the most, Her.
I woke up, in the car; the hospital was full last night and there wasn’t either a sofa or a chair for me to sleep. I was slept on the back seat, and as I was waking up, I saw that one draw she made for me. The idea of how important this could be just popped out off my mind. This could be that answer I’ve been looking for since She left us. It was the time now, my time. I had a chance.
I jumped off the vehicle. I ran into the building. Entered to where it was supposed to be…
- … The sun is now being born again, as your mother did, as you will. Let me tell you, you helped me more than what no one else could manage to. I’ll never know if you knew, or if you did not. All in all, the answer was just with us, always, inside us, inside everybody. So close, and so distant. It’s time now Hun. I just needed to say goodbye, but more than anything: thank you. Thanks for all these feelings, emotions of being mine, and I being yours.
I carefully folded the drawing and softly I let it go with her. I said goodbye. Or was it more like a See you Later?
“Do you remember
How we swore we'd never change
Even though you're leaving
That our feelings
Would always stay the same
I wish we could be laughing
Instead I'm standing here asking
Do we have to end this now
Can we make it last somehow
We both know what we've gotta say, not today
Cause I don't wanna leave this way
And if it's over
It hurts but I'm giving you my word
I hope that you're always
Happy like we were
Happy like we were”
El autor escribió este texto con sus idas y venidas, con un idioma todavía con algunos faltantes.... con mucho sentimiento.
Juan tiene 16 años, a los 14 enfrentó a la muerte con tanta valentía y madurez que aún me sigue enseñando como confrontar las aristas duras de la vida.... Juan es mi hijo, y Juan es uno de los 3 mejores regalos que me dió la vida.
Juan es el autor de este texto y cuando lo lei lloré como...... como..... como una madre, por el simple hecho de que me parece que él tiene las cosas un poco más claras que yo.
Las mujeres somos así. Andamos como las momas adentro del cajón, revolucionadas o tratando de sostener un orden que a veces nos asombra. Ellas forman un dulce montón y pugnan por lucirse o esconderse. De la misma manera tenemos el alma. ¿Cómo está tu cajón de momas?