This morning, while drinking coffee, I looked at the sleeves of my sweater and wondered: How old is it? It's my custom to get out of bed in my pajamas, put on this old sweater, and walk around in zombie mode to prepare my breakfast. I took the first sip of coffee with a slice of bread spread with butter and jam, remembering how long I've been drinking coffee with bread. I guessed at least 70 years.
I am grateful to life for having this tranquility in which time goes on forever, encouraging me to connect with myself and to be myself again.
I remembered my mother's voice calling us to breakfast: "Girls, breakfast is already served! Hurry up or you'll be late for school." On school days we only drank a banana smoothie, which we found shocking, and she added an egg and a little cinnamon to disguise the taste and the vitamins. She put the cake in our backpacks to eat at recess.
In Mexico, in my time, in my family, on weekends it was customary to drink coffee with milk and bread, orange juice and eggs prepared in many ways; my mother managed to vary them every day: lukewarm - 3 minutes with pieces of bread inside a bowl -, scrambled with potatoes or ham, with chorizo, green beans, chayote, Mexican style, ranchero, hard, etc.
When I was older, as a teenager, my mom tried to give me the smoothie, but it wouldn't go down. It tasted awful! So she let me have black coffee and bread, like I do now. I didn't have time to eat much for breakfast because I had to get to the vocational school, which was very far away. My mother wasn't usually very affectionate. She showed her love by feeding us well, she tried to make us eat as healthy as possible. I think it worked because my family has been very healthy.
It's been a long time since I thought about my mom, I never had "mamitis." This thought came to me when I looked at the sleeve of this sweater. Knitting was another way for us to show her affection; embroidering the sheets and tablecloths. She was very tidy and clean, as well as being an excellent cook.
This sweater represents my mother's love; when I wear it, she is with me. I travel back in time, to those hours when I was knitting or embroidering while waiting for my father to come home from work. She spent all her time creating, feeling satisfied with her crafts; I never saw her upset about it, even when my father came home late and tired from work. She was not submissive either, she had a very strong character, she could get angry about many things, except for knitting.
The remaining fabrics are her mark. Now I am aware of her love, that of the newly pregnant woman who was waiting for her children - us - to be born, for whom she knitted little jackets, embroidered the little sheets for our cribs and later those for our beds; a custom that she continued to the next generation. Knitting and embroidering the baskets for her grandchildren.
At one time I judged the difficulty of showing her affection by hugging us or playing with us. She never did! However, she was always at our side when we were sick, giving us medicine or bringing us food to bed, even though she did not like us to eat in the bedroom. Now I understand that many parents in those times were more concerned about feeding us and doing school.
My mother always thought it was important to feed us well so that we would grow up healthy. My father brought in the money and she took care of everything related to the interior of the home.
During this time, life changes in different ways, as both parents work, I have noticed that in some families, children eat very poorly - junk food. I have heard that the relationship is to monitor them through the cell phone, their demonstration of love is at least, when saying goodbye to them, to say a routine "I love you."
Due to the lack of funds, many children spend their time in daycare as babies. I do not mean to judge. Both in the past and in the present, there have been and continue to be parents who are aware of the responsibility of bringing children into the world, parents who can show their affection and emotional support for them. They are not only concerned with their grades.
Returning to the sweater my mother knitted, it is still in good condition and when I put it on I feel her love and affection, all of her is here in the present. Not only is her energy there, perhaps her traces are in the DNA of the knitting. She is in my blood! There are those intimate moments with herself, there are her warm hands on the yarn that rested on her legs as I would have liked to be when I was a child, touching her body with my little arms, in the same way as the yarn and the knitting were in contact with her.
I feel the nostalgia of her physical contact, that is why every night I cover myself with this sweater, I feel that she is the one who covers me when I dream. Sometimes I hug myself with this perfect knit, I know that not only was she there for me since she knitted it, but she continued to be with me and will continue to be there for my daughter when I die.
More from the author: What a Wonder, to reach my age and have everything!
