The day to eat cake has arrived. Today we sang happy birthday to my mother, even the national tree advanced its blooming and dressed itself in beautiful yellow flowers earlier than usual, which is normally between February and April, but this year it strangely bloomed recently.
According to my mother, it's the first time she has seen something like this happen, and since my mother is a plant and tree lover and knows quite a bit about their timing, she is probably right. Even nature joined the celebration.
My brothers were playing dominoes and listening to music. My mom seems happy when they are happy around her, so I guess it was okay.
Suddenly, a song played that my mother listened to many, many, many years ago, back in a time when she probably never imagined what her old age would be like. A ballad of traditional Venezuelan music. Of course, my brother downloaded it especially for her.
She became very nostalgic and the tears flowed naturally. I don't know, it seems she was crying because that song touched something deep in her that was asleep and woke up unexpectedly, but subtly.
I also felt that the song touched deep fibers within me, of course, since I listened to it a thousand times when I was a child. I tried to remember exactly what those moments were like, but they are very blurry. Time flew much faster than I imagined, and sometimes that doesn't feel very nice, but it is precisely that unceasing flow that gives life meaning, I believe, because otherwise we would be just like a photograph.
Of course, I went back home and have listened to that song many more times. I remembered the full lyrics, despite the passage of time. I like to sing it while I listen. Today, my mom said it reminded her a lot of my father. It's curious, but this is the first time I associate him with something beautiful.
My mother, on the other hand, will always be beautiful to me.
Thank you for accompanying me. I wish you good health, a dignified life.
