Mientras iba a las corridas pasando por el centro comercial, una vitrina enorme repleta de juguetes me hizo parar de repente, y no porque estuviera buscando alguno de ellos, sino que vi algo que fue como dar un paso atr谩s, y retroceder el tiempo, volviendo a ser una ni帽a de 5 a帽os.
Una serie de autitos coleccionables, me llev贸 a la 茅poca en la que mi hermano mayor siempre le dec铆a a pap谩 que le comprara uno de esos, para jugar, y aunque ten铆a montones de ellos, cada vez hab铆a uno diferente y por supuesto, el impulso era querer tenerlo. Era una colecci贸n dif铆cil de completar.
Nosotros nunca tuvimos auto propio, y viajar en colectivo era lo normal para la familia, que en alg煤n momento lleg贸 hasta viajar con el perrito, cuando eso no era visto normalmente. Me imagino que esa era tambi茅n la motivaci贸n de mi hermano, aunque muchos a帽os despu茅s tampoco hizo el empe帽o por comprarse uno, o siquiera aprender a manejar.
Pero este cuento no va sobre eso, sino por la colecci贸n de autitos de juguete que ten铆a 茅l cuando era ni帽o. Le llego a calcular unos 30 como m铆nimo, quiz谩s eran m谩s, pues lo que recuerdo era que llenaban a medias dos bolsas de supermercado de entonces.
Como no era un coleccionista formal, no prestaba atenci贸n a su cuidado excesivo, pero tampoco era de los que buscaba jugar con ellos. Por lo general, cuando hac铆a uso de los autos, era para hacer una larga fila al borde de la pared. Los colocaba como si fuera una exhibici贸n, o en el peor de los casos, la fila para surtir gasolina en Venezuela, sobre todo en los tiempos de crisis extrema de combustible.
A mi, eso me parec铆a absurdo y aburrido, as铆 que decid铆a (siendo yo menor que 茅l) ponerle un poco de picante a su juego, llegando cual Godzilla a destruir su orden casi arquitect贸nico de autos, algunas veces hasta clasificados por colores. Por supuesto, ven铆a la crisis de llanto de su parte, y el consecuente rega帽o para mi. Todav铆a me pregunto cu谩l era la finalidad de un juego en el que al terminar de colocarlos, se sentaba solo a contemplar.
Termin谩bamos molestos y yo decid铆a jugar sola los siguientes d铆as, hasta que era 茅l quien me ped铆a que jug谩ramos juntos, pues a 茅l no se le ocurr铆a c贸mo hacerlo. Hasta el sol de hoy, cuarenta a帽os despu茅s, la ocurrente sigo siendo yo.
Fue lindo poder volver a ese tiempo, qued谩ndome un rato viendo y detallando los autitos en la vitrina. Quiz谩s ahora a 茅l ya no le llamen la atenci贸n, ni siquiera para coleccionarlos, pero en mi caso, dif铆cilmente no relacione un auto de estos, con el recuerdo de mis travesuras infantiles.
As I was rushing through the mall, a huge display case full of toys made me stop suddenly, and not because I was looking for any of them, but because I saw something that was like taking a step back, and going back in time, going back to being a 5 year old girl.
A series of collectible cars, took me back to the time when my older brother would always tell dad to buy him one of those, to play with, and even though he had tons of them, each time there was a different one and of course, the impulse was to want to have it. It was a difficult collection to complete.
We never had our own car, and traveling by bus was the norm for the family, which at some point even went as far as traveling with the doggy, when that was not normally seen. I imagine that this was also my brother's motivation, although many years later he didn't make the effort to buy one, or even learn to drive.
But this story is not about that, but about the collection of toy cars he had as a child. I estimate that he had at least 30 of them, maybe more, as I remember that they half filled two grocery bags back then.
Not being a formal collector, he did not pay attention to their excessive care, but neither was he one to play with them. Usually, when he did make use of the cars, it was to make a long line at the edge of the wall. I would set them up as if it were an exhibition, or in the worst case, the line to get gas in Venezuela, especially in times of extreme fuel crisis.
To me, that seemed absurd and boring, so I decided (being younger than him) to put a little spice to his game, arriving like Godzilla to destroy his almost architectural order of cars, sometimes even classified by colors. Of course, there would come the crying crisis on his part, and the consequent scolding for me. I still wonder what was the purpose of a game in which, when he finished placing them, he would sit alone to contemplate.
We would end up annoyed and I would decide to play alone the following days, until it was he who asked me to play together, as he could not figure out how to do it. To this day, forty years later, I am still the witty one.
It was nice to be able to go back to that time, spending some time looking at and detailing the little cars in the showcase. Maybe now he is not interested in them, not even to collect them, but in my case, it is hard not to relate one of these cars with the memory of my childhood pranks.
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