Someone told me that it is not a coincidence…that we have always chosen them. That we find them on the path of life, we recognize each other and we know that somewhere in the history of the worlds we were part of the same clan. Decades pass and when I travel the rivers again, those channels, I remember very well the qualities that brought them to my personal land.
Brave, cheerful and talkative. Able to spend hours listening, dying of laughter, consoling. Architects of dreams, makers of plans, kitchen engineers, singer-songwriters of lullabies.
When women's heads come together around "a fire", forces are born, magic grows, embers burn, they enjoy, celebrate, heal, recompose, invent, create, unite, separate, bury, give life, grumble, grieve.
That fire can be the table of a bar, trips out on vacation, the playground of a school, the shed where we played as children, the living room of a house, the hallway of a college, a mate in the park, the alarm signal that someone needs us or that priceless treasure that are the sleepovers at the houses of others.
Those of teenagers after a dance, or to prepare for an exam, or to close a movie night. Those of “come on Saturday” because there is nothing better to do in the world than listen to music, and talk, talk and talk until you get tired. Those of adults, sometimes to shelter in our souls someone with hopelessness in their eyes, and then we unfold ourselves in hugs, in cuddles, in words, to remind them that there is always tomorrow. Sometimes to share, to chat, to build, without excuses, just for the sheer desire.
The future once did not exist. Anyone over 25 was of an unimaginable old age…and yet…behind each one of us, our eyes.
We changed. We grew up. We hurt. We gave birth to children. We buried the dead. We loved. We were and are loved. We left and were left. We were angry for life, only to discover that life is too much and it wasn't worth it. We cared and in the best of cases we let ourselves be cared for.
We get married, we get together, we get divorced. Or not.
We thought we were going to die many times, and somewhere we found the strength to continue. We danced with a man, but the most successful dance we did was for our children when we taught them to walk.
We spent white nights, black nights, red nights, nights of light and shadows. Nights of thousands of stars and soulless nights. We made love, and when it was time, we also made war. We gave ourselves. We protected ourselves. We were wounded and inevitably, we wound.
So…the bodies gave an account of those struggles, but we all kept our gaze intact. The one that defines us, the one that lets us know that we are there, that we continue to be and that we never stop being there.
Because together we built our own foundations, at a time when our building was just beginning to be erected. We are wiser, more beautiful, more complete, fuller, sweeter, more cheerful and luckily, in some ways, wilder.
And at that time we were too, we just didn't know it. Today we are all mirrors of each other, and seeing ourselves reflected in this daily dance makes me emotional.
Because when women's heads gather around the "fire" that they decide to fan with their presence, there is a party, a coven, mystery, a storm, sparks and harmony. As always. As never before. As always.
By: SIMONE SEIJA PASEYRO
EN 
ES_ES