Perhaps this is the only memory I will keep forever. I believe I won’t be the keeper of your hours when you decide to return. However, I trust there is a deeper reason, a purpose unfolding beyond our limited capacity to comprehend, transcending the boundaries of physical existence. Just like emotions, which I see as a vast library filled with volumes that tell the stories of our lives. These books, often unconsciously, reveal our memories, exposing them like pages turned by time. Yet, I understand that the lack of proper understanding sometimes leads us to make choices based on fear, limiting beliefs, and insecurity, placing significant barriers to our evolutionary processes.
I firmly believe that we hold a potential for understanding beyond what we manifest in the present. And above all, that nothing fades in vain, for every experience, every obstacle, contributes to our growth.
I confess, my sunflower, that the idea of being a mother never ardently presented itself in my thoughts. My arrogance said, in an attempt to convince myself, that if I ever became a mother, it would be through the noble art of adoption, not through giving birth. What audacity, to deny that which had been entrusted to the women of the family, generation after generation, focusing only on my supposed rights. What rights? Egoism, some would cry. Those words might still echo subtly in my core, but they were not the ones that made it difficult for your being to enter this world.
I want to believe that something greater, a subtle thread of destiny, guided you to decide not to persist in seeking this experience with me. Or perhaps my own body reacted emotionally, based on the pain lived by my previous generation, preventing your stay. I wholeheartedly believe, not only that body and mind are connected in symbiosis, but that our cells carry the stories of our ancestors, influencing, in some way, our behavior and way of thinking.
At that time, your father and I danced out of sync; a tumultuous, conflicted relationship, far from offering the solidity and stability you deserved. Insecurity reigned. We were like fragile boats adrift, facing your determination, which was so strong, to come and to leave. A lesson in maturity, self-confidence, and self-esteem. The slaps life dealt us.
The reason for my previous disinterest in motherhood might lie in the roots of my own past, in the distance that separated me from my parents, in the memory of a marriage that crumbled as soon as it began, and in the rifts that time left. Or perhaps the fear of not being enough, having experienced conflicted relationships, contributed to the lack of enthusiasm that so often overflows in the women around me. Life, inevitably, unfolded before me paths that distanced me from motherhood, and I walked them, never revisiting that idea until the day you came.
It took me a year to recover from your absence. During that time, I experienced a mix of emotions that nearly dragged me to the brink of insanity. Depressed, I would fall asleep hoping to find you in my dreams, but the depth I desired remained out of reach. During that period, the pain of your absence wove invisible threads, and I isolated myself from everything, closing myself off from the world. I wanted to find myself. I went through a whirlwind of emotions that led me to the edge of desolation, where every shadow turned into a subtle echo of melancholy. Upon waking, reality imposed itself, frustrating the search for a deeper connection.
One day, I fell asleep, sank deep, and found myself on the other side, in a charming, white and airy house where the kitchen counter stretched before the living room. As I was attending to the day’s chores, I heard small footsteps approaching. I raised my head and saw a little girl appear, almond-colored hair, straight, dancing like ribbons of silk; a slim, graceful body, around five years old. I watched her walk towards me, my heart racing. She stopped in front of the counter, placing her little hands one over the other, supporting them on the wood, and resting her chin with a curious expression. Her eyes rose to meet mine, studying me carefully. In that moment, I had before me the most enchanting child I had ever seen. Her gaze was so deep, it seemed to peer beyond the very abyss of my own soul. That sight made me believe in the existence of something beyond the tangible, something unexplainable. Perhaps it was a reflection of the desire born from your provocation—a desire for an empty space.
Since that moment, when I first envisioned you, I, who had never nurtured the desire to be a mother and had even rejected motherhood, have longed, profoundly, with an indescribable intensity, to be yours. This desire, once nonexistent, has transformed into a fervor unknown to me. It was as though, by gazing at you, I had established a connection with a part of me that had remained dormant until then, like a flower waiting for spring to bloom.
If it were possible to be sure that I could bring you back, I would do so without hesitation; but the doors that opened for you never opened again.
Life, after your brief visit and quick farewell, took on such profound contours that, in this moment that envelops me, I wonder how it would have been if you had arrived here, reaching the age of five. I think your existence would have likely brought forth a completely different version of the one who wanders through these days. You, with your uniqueness, would have possibly diverted my course, pulling me down paths I don’t know today. In your own way, you would have guided me through new ways of experiencing life, altering the perspective through which I view this world full of nuances. You would have likely dismantled the foundations that support my values, showing me new ways of seeing, believing, recognizing, feeling, and understanding. You would have reshaped my beliefs and ideals, and I, a fearless nomad, would not hesitate to follow the steps of your leadership.
But, like the romances that life writes for us, this remains a daydream. An imagination of what could have been, a deep well full of “what ifs.” I find myself surrounded by the silence of what never was, contemplating what was lost. Life, my sunflower, is a symphony of absences and emptiness, where the lack of your presence echoes like an unfinished melody. And I, a faithful traveler on this journey life has become, try to accept and dance to the rhythm of whatever comes my way. Life is this enigma, and seeking to understand it is what my life means.
Perhaps, one day, we will meet again. It won’t be long, for the fleeting nature of time is as brief as a breath. I live each thing in its time, for time, that relentless weaver, never hesitates to remind us that there is only one fate that finishes this journey. For now, I say thank you and see you soon; and remind myself not to worry about the flow of time, nor to try to rush it. In the right moment, if possible, our paths will intertwine once again.
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