I had taken these photographs last Wednesday. An extremely characteristic day for this time of year: winter. And that fact alone is relevant enough to be mentioned in this post. In my city, in my country, and I would say in the northern part of my continent (South America), the seasons are not usually as noticeable as they are in other geographical latitudes of the planet. That day, the thermometer read 24 degrees, it was 3 in the afternoon, and there was a light cold breeze that made the moment even more delightful and pleasant, leading me back to a place from my childhood: The Path toward a space of rebellion, youth, and memories.
Keep the following in mind: I am a 33-year-old woman, I am the mother of a beautiful 8-year-old girl, and I am the partner of a man who captivates and moves me. But even with the rhythm that defines my current days, I still could not avoid feeling the emotion in my body and in my gestures as I got closer to a place I have loved my entire life; a place I curiously did not realize (until that moment) how deeply I adored.
And yes, it is a small but beautiful skate park that used to be the meeting spot where I spent time with each and every one of my friends. That bond alone is something tremendous, meaningful, and powerful in the life of a teenager, as I once was. And if you add to that the fact that most of my friends, for one reason or another, had to emigrate—not only from the city, but from the country—then finding myself once again in the surroundings of that place became a mix of emotions that was simply too intense.
I am not lying when I tell you that the knot in my throat was so strong that I had to make an effort not to cry in front of my little daughter. There is nothing wrong, I should clarify, with a mother showing emotions to her children, but the issue was having to explain why I was feeling that way. Even today, now, as I explain it, I feel my heart racing and my mind filling with so many good, beautiful, and fun memories that they will inevitably make me cry.
Sometimes those tears come from the happiness of having lived through such beautiful moments. Other times, they come from how difficult it is for me to find again the warmth and companionship I used to have when I was 17, 18, 19 years old. Rock and roll, rebellion, honest smiles, and a sense of community and belonging were traits of those people I love so deeply and miss so much. Life is also the accumulation of memories we are able to treasure.
Just as photographs become postcards of a precise moment, of a specific historical time, they are also the connection we did not know we needed with such passion. They are the anchor that breaks monotony and the link between a simple walk to get some cardio done and my bond and sense of belonging with my friends, my sweetest years, and moments of happiness, unity, and tenderness that I love so dearly. I hope you can find in the photographs some of what I try to convey in these words. And if not, know that what you see means a great deal to me. Thank you for reading me, from the bottom of my heart, guys.
