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You once again displayed the irreparable, while you looked down and insisted on smoothing the tablecloth with your fingertips, tracing its wrinkles, stains and cracks as if in that gesture you managed to write (the tablecloth, life) in a different way. Exorcism. The grief that stings and stings, shakes the chest when we sleep, leaves us silent in front of each other.

Your mother bequeathed you those long bones, some debts, a couple of Phone Number List wooden furniture full of drawers and stories, many books and a giant fern, bursting with spores and roots that were desperately looking for somewhere to anchor themselves. 2. The last time I saw her was in the hospital: hospitalized for respiratory complications, her lungs were flooded, she was fatigued, her voice was a whisper and her smile was intact, the one that appears in her greenish eyes, shines in her mouth and shakes. his thin body.



 Like every time we meet since the illness began, we soon settle into our ritual of slow, gentle foot massages, with generous doses of lavender cream, while we talk about anything and learn to escape somewhere else, almost without realizing it, between the routines of the health personnel, the moans from the neighboring bed, some phone calls and the imminence of my departure. When the time comes, without saying anything, we hug each other for a long time and both of our eyes glaze over, a difficult farewell.