In A Corner Of The Soul, The Secret Place Of Memories

“Great follies leave great memories…”
– Danns Vega

Let us hope dear reader that you are reading these humble words while you listen at the same time to the inimitable voice of the master Serrat and as you move with memories, the memories that each of us have and which appear from time to time. time to make us cry or make us laugh …

“ These are the little things that left us with a time of roses… in a corner, on paper or in a drawer ”… these unforgettable and wonderful memories that nothing and no one can erase.

Our mother’s smile as she rocked us, our first kiss, the first love letter, the first drawing of our son who ran like crazy to show it to mom and dad …

These memories which remain in our minds and which reappear as the greatest of treasures, while we searched in a corner, on a piece of paper or in a drawer.

That’s when this photo appears where we were toddlers, or this yellowed letter from a certain boyfriend.

This rose dries between the pages of a book that always reminds us of our 20 years and the unequivocal innocence of first love.

This cookbook made with so much care by our grandmother and with which we still smell the smell of baked cake or this diary that we did not know until now and which appears in our lives like a whirlwind willing to disarm us the heart.

I remember once, where they found the beginning of what must have been  my grandfather’s diary. Unfortunately what he had started with so much care could not be finished and so is life.

I never met my grandfather so these written words marked a before and after…

When they started to read his writings  aloud, while I remained silent and absorbed like in the best of movies, an inner emotion came over  me.

I felt like I was traveling in a time machine, as if somehow I knew my grandfather, this already old man who recounted his adventures as a little boy with the same words and the same vitality that I had heard so often from my grandmother, her dear life partner.

At that moment, I felt that my grandfather’s words took on such force, that I felt him a little closer to me, despite not knowing him.

The story was so beautiful that we lost track of the time and they continued to read and read… his pranks at school, his relationship with those close to him.

Then there was silence… he had only been able to write a certain number of pages, but he didn’t have time to continue.

That’s when we realized he was gone too early and even though we couldn’t enjoy his accounts sitting on his lap, his words took shape on this incredible afternoon… an afternoon of memories.
(Joan Manuel Serrat)
Some believe
that  time and absence
have killed them.
But their train
sold round trip tickets 
.

These are the little things
that left us with roses for a while
in a corner,
on paper
or in a drawer.

Like a thief
they lie in wait for you behind
the door.
They have you so much
at their mercy
like dead leaves

that the wind drags here and there, that
they smile sadly at you
and  make
us cry when
no one sees us.

And now, as I write these words to you, and as I read them again, I understand the powerful power that memories have within us that “ make us cry when no one sees us… ”