This letter surely finds you already in Paraguay, after intense fifteen days where detachment was the main protagonist, and your tight hugs necessary to cope with the load that I brought with me. Fifteen days that I naively thought I could get through alone. How wrong I was. How important it was that you followed that maternal instinct by repeating to me over and over again “I think it would be good if you let me accompany you daughter”. You mothers are half witches and seers, and despite my repetitive response “no ma, it’s not necessary, don’t worry”, you understood that your presence was essential even though I didn’t tell you.
I am writing this letter while I see you asleep in the next room, resting your body tired of packing by my side, part of my life. It is a rainy night as is customary at this time, and despite the immensity of this city, today in particular everything is silent. From time to time I hear planes go by, those that remind me that you are traveling tomorrow and that my days with you are over. August ends today and with it the darkest hours go. But you are going to read this letter beginning with the best of the months in Paraguay, the one where everything flourishes, the weather becomes pleasant and the color returns. Like your presence these days here. You are that rainbow that colored my days, making me a joke to make me smile, dancing by my side while we packed, repeating nice words to me, holding my hand when I felt like I couldn’t anymore. oh my! if you knew that with a hug from you I feel protected. You don’t need to say anything, because when your eyes meet mine I know everything will be alright.
Fear and failure are inescapable, I know, this is perhaps one of the greatest pains that I have to go through. One that I did not project in my life plan, one that will undoubtedly mark a before and after. This pain is unavoidable, but with your presence you have made it much more tolerable. I appreciate your opportune silence on our car trips along that long highway while you listened to me cry, or your constant humming of some song that I put on spotify. Prudent and wise, understanding the process without judging. Guiding with tenderness and patience this daughter of yours who is gathering her parts to fly again.
From this trip we are left with that afternoon of pistachio-flavored ice cream, that night at the red cross with a sprained ankle and those shared cigarettes. We are left with that day when you accompanied me to work watching me proudly how I handled myself, the eight boxes and six suitcases that we meticulously packed and the friends we made in the DHL office. We have a few secrets left that only you and I know, those that unite us in a beautiful complicity.
I write this letter thinking of the fortune of knowing me as your daughter and the privilege of having such a genuine connection. I am your blood that runs through my veins, your reflection and your genetics, I am that extension of your being and the joy that we know each other upside down. These dark hours by your side made me understand that there is no light without shadow, no joy without pain. Life is just that, what you win and what you lose but always giving your heart.
Thank you for these fifteen days my mother, with you I come out of this much stronger.
