I wrote this text for my mom, who died years ago, now I am afraid of losing someone very close, another mother figure who is very sick with cancer.
It was not easy to be alone. Empty of unconditional love .
When she visited Europe years before, she was a teenager traveling with her mother, carrying maps and train schedules as if they were her homework.
Her mother died some months after this trip. She had to grow up. She had to learn how to survive, how to handle the lovers who came and go, how to be alone in an empty dark room, feverish, among the sweaty sheets and tears of sorrow.
She had to learn how to leave home, not to work and follow a daily schedule, but to have fun, to go to the movies, to learn how to surf under the sunset.
She had to learn to accept she could do it, but her mother couldn´t anymore. This right had been denied to her.
Now she was there, back in Europe, on a train, carrying maps and train schedules, watching shades of green enlivened by the summer.She looked at the seat beside her. It was empty. Empty of unconditional love.
It would be a long journey for her.