Si me tuviera que ir como mi mamá, si mi memoria ha de morir lentamente, me alegro de que algo de esa historia permanecerá, me alegro de que hayas entrado en mi vida cuando yo constituía la biblioteca de los momentos que se recogieron; ahora lo sé, no por casualidad, ni por error. El corazón es sabio al elegir lo que debe quedarse con nosotros por el resto de nuestra vida.
And
so we go filling those spaces with the memories we pick, somehow long time ago,
without even knowing why. I sometimes look back at the pieces that I saved in
the jar of my memories, in the drawers of my cabinet where I stacked one by one
those moments, the mementos that had somehow manage to stay, to remain as part of me.
If
I was to go like my mom, if my memory will slowly die, I am glad that some of
that history will remain, I’m glad that you entered my life when I was making the
library of the moments that were collected, now I know, not by chance, neither
by mistake. The heart is wise when choosing what should stay with us, for the
rest of our life.
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