Friday, December 3

Miss – Information

The longings they are so because of what they have of utopia and there are utopias more unattainable than not seeing them today or now. There are times, for example, when no matter how happy you are today, all of a sudden you long for lots of yesterdays. For example, when you come across a photo of rosy cheeks, of some first freckles flanking a nose on jagged smiles and you would like, how much would you want, to have them like this even for a little while. Today now. I remember once I came home from the hypermarket telling my daughter, almost shouting, before even putting away the frozen bags, that I had seen her, that I had seen her as a baby! She was in a cart looking curiously at the inaccessible row of storybooks and notebooks. Another mother who did not look like me at all was holding the cart. I discovered them by chance when I was about to pass by but that almost daughter of mine looked at me and my heart skipped a beat. I swerved my shopping cart and yes, it was her, it was her! Nothing like this had ever happened to me. I had to explain to that mother how much she reminded me of my daughter, now an adult, as I squatted down to talk to that child in the language of children. While the traveling girl Of the time she listened to me smiling without a hint of surprise, that mother was the concise kind of protocol that marked the protocol and she took off, abandoning the project of buying a book or whatever. And he did well, because if he had given me a cow I would have been able to take that girl against my chest and smell her neck, for example. I must have looked like a complete nutcase to him, and let’s not kid ourselves: he was even most likely right.

While my daughter, whom I miss, misses hers, I went back to Toni Sendic Street and I stopped to look at that balcony on the fourth floor of my grandmother’s little kitchen and they came to me, like this Suddenly, a hundred visits as a girl and the others: where I was the one to put a baby on her lap. Children with freckles dressed for Sunday with that happy certainty that great-grandmother had her hidden suggestions. And mine orange. And mine blue. They were different times. Now it was time to visit her. Before, when she was the one who came to visit us, we — now parents — were the ones to run when we saw her walk under that sun, knowing that she had sugus in her pockets. Exactly one for each. In our collective memory it is absolutely impossible to disassociate the sugus of the grandmother-great-grandmother. Oh, if the candy brand knew all that that small woman with the blue eyes did for them! And while my sharply angled eyes hung on a fourth story and I missed her, in the present tense, she remembered, perhaps, the last twenty or thirty goodbyes. He cried, because he was afraid of never seeing us again. He missed us in the future, which from Toni Sendic Street, today, now, has seemed like a beautiful way of loving us. I have taken a photo, not of a facade, what is it, but of a feeling and I have sent it to my daughter. Because I love her, above all, but also with the premeditation and treachery of this miss cumulative and multidimensional. Migratory. That encompasses times and places. And smells. And blue eyes that cry and also pineapple blue. And of balconies where all the good moments are entangled between the vines. But I have also sent it to him because, heck, if we are to cry, let us cry! Let it be a wonderful cry to remember everything we loved and were loved. And it made me think so hard! That even my grandson and his great-great-grandmother must have caught up with them, to miss, what really, really is to miss … is to look at the world and find it a little more empty, while we are so so full.

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