“mis abuelos” (my grandparents)
table 2006

 

My grandparents were dead.
I can still remember that day clearly.
When we got back to their place everything remained as if they hadn't left.
Each corner was still soaked with their presence, with their essence, and their words.
It was the time to get back to routine,
when we all sit at the table.
No one wanted to invade their places,
one in front of the other and which for so many years were reserved.
All those images... yesterday and today converged.
In that very moment the table became an odd figure, young and old at the same time.
And since then, never again were "my grandparents" chairs occupied
in memory of their lack.