On March 8, the day dedicated to WOMEN, already with the announcement of spring, it brings us a backpack full of hope in this year of the second and third wave; and from fear and desolation; and the above without forgetting the last year so calamitous and sad to remember.
And all while man goes to Mars in order to search for the future, when the planet we live on ends due to our lack of care, that the human species has a place to live and breathe; and perhaps to liquidate, then also, a merciless planet by cold and far from us, in which it takes to arrive, with the current rockets, about six months; and maybe there, says one of my neighbors, that they even live well.
Noise and money that is not obviated (and perhaps should not be ignored), while our brand continues to be the row of deaths from this pandemic that, despite so many scientific and technical advances, we are not yet able to stop … And it comes It is well to remember it because the count of people who have left us overwhelms us and shrinks our spirits and even our souls too: may the Lord have them by his side Amen.
With that said, let’s dedicate these lines to women
who have left their breath on the edge of a sigh of pain. Women who had already shown their ability and their work in a cold and robotic society that they, I think most, could not understand; Among other things, because his life was curdled in the time of famines, of war, of the lack of economic means; of saving and dressing in the clothes that their older sister left them.
Hardworking women, clean, austere, matriarchal in welcome and welcome; who insisted, and succeeded, in donating and giving away their good work as if they did not make an effort, as if everyday life were easy and it hardly involved sacrifices to make bleach with the ash from the fire.
Women who spoke to you about that time, when there was hardly any candeal bread and they had to grind barley, “and the bread had raspas that hurt the throat and tasted bitter on the palate.”
Women who, for the most part, hardly visited the school; And if they did, it was for a short time: “I was helping my mother”; “They took me to the field”; “I learned to read late at night by the light of a candle”; “I went to the school of a neighbor who taught paying with spice; that is to say, paying with things to eat ”…
Women who darned the ripped pants every day, weeks, months …, and were so careful and meticulous that they insisted on darning them with herringbone, and now, look, ”that the girls tear their pants and I can’t explain it to myself ”.
Women who earned a meager salary when they mowed “that was not at all like that of men”; and they had, they tell you, a groove just like the cachicán. All to cover a gap that “my mother wanted was very deep and wide and all to be able to eat.”
Grandmothers who made their dowry and wove lace or crochet lace for them, embroidered the finial with a scallop, tinted flowers and other filtiré; as if everything were going to live on those bouquets. “Eleven reales my father-in-law gave me to build the house; and with eleven reales what to put but a bed and a basin …; and nothing more”.
Women with an easy smile and quick tears; Affectionate women, with fingers wrinkled from the cold, “my hands were so rough that my mother buttered me with good and slaughter butter to soften them.”
Whole and sad women; “Because they brought me my dead son, riddled with bullets, without knowing why, one day when the sun went down and it seemed it was going to pool. A day of the dead without burying ”… Years with anxiety and fear, and the doors closed with bolts and a padlock from the inside; “It was almost impossible to live back then.”
And they endured it on the foot of life, with restrictions and blackmailing them, with hunger and cold, with fear and fear. All to one “washing and rewashing my man’s torn and re-sewn nightgowns, because we had no money to buy a piece of cloth and replace it.”
They, all, great women for extraordinary and wise for their goodness and popular wisdom; important for essential; full of affection, forgiveness and benevolence.
Now, “when we were better off”, a hidden virus comes and crucifies them in a coffin without the affection of an outstretched hand having been able to console them.
With so much sadness and regret: What are we going to celebrate? …
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