scripts

i wasn’t aware of it,
no, not by then

i was experimenting the scene
(i like that use of the word
in portuguese, they do not say ‘trying’
they say ‘experimenting’),

…was experimenting the scene
not knowing it would become
so relevant in my life

when i noticed this,
i wrote it, or reported my close ones,
to enjoy the episode, or interpret it,
for different reasons,
they had a register, like
an accumulation of my bio episodes.

yesterday, taking with my father
by video call
(he is living now in a geriatric,
he thinks is his house and that he bought it)

-How beautiful your house dady – i tell him.
-Yess he added with pride.
-Guess who called me?
-I don’t know – he says
-I’ve got a called from Citibank (he worked there many years)
-Don’t tell me!!?.-he says surprised and with joy.
-Yes, there are organizing a veteran dinner, and made a voting
selecting the best boss of those years and guess who won?
-Who?!, he asked, rising his eyebrow.
-You!! I answered as if i was announcing a president.
And he laughed very happy.

_

no, i wasn’t aware of it,
wasn’t aware Alzheimer
has a very zen quality

“to be in the present”,
the rest, does not exit

(but yes it remains
at least up to this stage
is still there)

that story,
that scene that brings ourselves back
for a little while

that still succeed
in making us happy again

it still rejoices ourselves.

i will write down some scripts about my father,
episodes i know as his daughter,
and others i know by talks with my mother or people
that know him

i will write them down,
so that others or me can tell
him and get five minutes of his joy,
a joy that rescues us all from the lack of sense.

i will formally organize and register my own scripts,
as testaments,
will give precise instructions to my people
that those stories must be told to me
when i need my self back,
in case i might have troubles finding it

i modestly advice you do the same,
try to generate those episodes
that one day becomes the scripts
you would love to hear as old, lost or crazy

pd. and the hands, yes, there will be hands
that will make us fill loved and cared, hands we know or
strangers hands,

it
will
not
matter

just let it be those hands reachable too.

///

///

no me estaba dando cuenta
no, no en ese momento

estaba experimentando
(me gusta ese uso de la palabra
en portugués, no utilizan “probar”
dicen “experimentar”),
una escena que se volvería
importante en mi vida

y cuando me dí cuenta
la escribí,
o se la relaté a mis íntimos,
para saborearla, entenderla,
abordarla, por diferentes razones
y ellos tienen registro, como una
bio mía que van acumulando

ayer, hablando con mi papá
por videollamada,
(está viviendo ahora en un hogar, geriátrico ahora,
cree que es su casa y
que él la compró

-Qué hermosa tu casa papi, le digo.
-Siii dice contento.
-¿Adiviná quién me llamó?-digo.
-No sé-contesta
-Me llamaron del citibank (él trabajó allí
muchos años) y van a organizar una cena de veteranos
-No me digas! me dice, contento.
-Si, le digo, y había que votar al mejor jefe y adiviná ¿a quién eligieron?
-No sé, dice sonriendo
-A vossss. – le digo, como si anunciara un presidente.
Y río contento.
_

no me daba cuenta,
no, tampoco me daba cuenta
que el Alzheimer
tiene algo zen
“habitar el presente”

el resto no existe,
pero sí

queda algo
(al menos hasta ahora, queda algo)

una historia,
una escena,
ese script
que nos devuelve el ‘yo’ por un rato
nos devuelve de ese ‘yo’
un argumento que nos hacía felices
y logra volver a hacerlo

voy a armar algunos scripts de mi papá
los que yo pude conocer como hija
o por nuestras charlas,
para contárselos, para que se los cuenten,
porque esa sonrisa y alegría de 5 minutos
es una energía que rescata y devuelve
sentido a todos, a él y quienes lo rodeamos

así mismo
voy a registrar mis scripts formalmente,
como testamentos,
voy a aclararle a mi gente
que eso deben contarme
cuando necesite que me devuelvan
el yo.

y les aconsejo hagan lo mismo,
intenten generar esas escenas
que un día serán el script
que gustaran oír de viejos, perdidos, o locos.

PD. y tener quién nos dé la mano, para sentirnos queridos,
extraños y conocidos que nos dan la mano.

no
va
a hacer
diferencia


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