I say good night to my daughters, go to my room and start hearing their voices. They had said good night to me as well, but I know that for at least two more hours they will be talking. This is a long weekend, with a holiday on Monday, and my 26 years old daughter is visiting. She is sharing a room with her 24 years old sister. Even though they talk on the phone almost every day, they still have a lot to catch up. Listening to them, I am reminded of my sisters and how we treasured so much these private conversations in the dark, when we could tell secrets that we wouldn’t dare to disclose during the day.
My four sisters and I are very good friends. But when we were growing up, we used to fight a lot. One day I grabbed a chicken at the pen to chase my older sister who was terrified of birds. If she were outside and happened to see a pigeon, a chicken, or anything else with wings, she was capable of running on the street in front of cars, putting her life in danger, only to escape her most dreadful enemy. That day, I don’t remember what she had done to annoy me. I do remember running after her through the house with the chicken in my hands, until she climbed on the highest tree of the backyard from which, later on, she was unable to get down. Of course, my mother wasn’t very happy with me when she heard the story…
There were many fights, but there were so many more moments of joy. In the nights that my parents went out to dinner, we did all sorts of mischief. We took turns lying in a hammock so that the others could swing it very high, trying to reach the ceiling. When we became teenagers, the boys came and serenaded us, or threw stones at the windows of the house to catch our attention, and we all agreed that we would never tell our parents. I remember the moments of complicity, the moments when we were unhappy and comforted each other, the moments of extreme pleasure that we just had to share.
Of course, all these moments had to be shared with our cousins as well. Dozens of them. We would travel with our cousins, have sleepovers with our cousins, play and fight with our cousins. No lunch was complete if at least one of our cousins wasn’t there to share. Our family was like a big clan where nobody was ever left alone to enjoy a moment of solitude. Everything was done together with our relatives.
But, if we happened to be alone one evening, my sisters and I would find extremely comforting to talk for hours and hours into the night. We had so much to tell that sometimes the morning would come and we were still awake, discussing our dreams. Listening to the voices of my daughters on the other room, I am happy to realize that the bonds of sisterhood remain strong generation after generation.
My four sisters and I are very good friends. But when we were growing up, we used to fight a lot. One day I grabbed a chicken at the pen to chase my older sister who was terrified of birds. If she were outside and happened to see a pigeon, a chicken, or anything else with wings, she was capable of running on the street in front of cars, putting her life in danger, only to escape her most dreadful enemy. That day, I don’t remember what she had done to annoy me. I do remember running after her through the house with the chicken in my hands, until she climbed on the highest tree of the backyard from which, later on, she was unable to get down. Of course, my mother wasn’t very happy with me when she heard the story…
There were many fights, but there were so many more moments of joy. In the nights that my parents went out to dinner, we did all sorts of mischief. We took turns lying in a hammock so that the others could swing it very high, trying to reach the ceiling. When we became teenagers, the boys came and serenaded us, or threw stones at the windows of the house to catch our attention, and we all agreed that we would never tell our parents. I remember the moments of complicity, the moments when we were unhappy and comforted each other, the moments of extreme pleasure that we just had to share.
Of course, all these moments had to be shared with our cousins as well. Dozens of them. We would travel with our cousins, have sleepovers with our cousins, play and fight with our cousins. No lunch was complete if at least one of our cousins wasn’t there to share. Our family was like a big clan where nobody was ever left alone to enjoy a moment of solitude. Everything was done together with our relatives.
But, if we happened to be alone one evening, my sisters and I would find extremely comforting to talk for hours and hours into the night. We had so much to tell that sometimes the morning would come and we were still awake, discussing our dreams. Listening to the voices of my daughters on the other room, I am happy to realize that the bonds of sisterhood remain strong generation after generation.
LAÇOS DE FAMÍLIA
Falo boa noite para minhas filhas, vou para o meu quarto, e começo a ouvir as vozes delas. Elas também tinham me dado boa noite, mas sei que não vão dormir tão cedo; pelo menos por mais duas horas ficarão conversando. Este é um fim de semana prolongado, com um feriado na segunda-feira, e minha filha de 26 anos veio nos visitar. Ela está dividindo o quarto com a irmã de 24 anos. As duas se falam ao telefone quase todos os dias, mas ainda têm muito assunto pra conversar. Ouvindo-as, eu me lembro das minhas irmãs e de como nós adorávamos essas conversas privadas, no escuro, quando podíamos contar segredos que não nos atrevíamos a compartilhar durante o dia.
Eu e minhas quatro irmãs somos muito amigas. Mas, quando éramos pequenas, costumávamos brigar bastante. Um dia eu peguei uma galinha no galinheiro para assustar a minha irmã mais velha, que tinha pavor de qualquer tipo de aves. Se ela estivesse na calçada e visse um pombo, uma galinha, ou qualquer outra coisa com asas, era capaz de correr pra rua na frente de carros, colocando sua vida em perigo, só para fugir da sua inimiga mais temível. Não me lembro o que ela tinha feito naquele dia pra me chatear. Mas me lembro muito bem de persegui-la com a galinha nas mãos pela casa toda. Desesperada, ela acabou subindo na árvore mais alta do quintal da qual, mais tarde, era incapaz de descer. Naturalmente, a minha mãe não ficou muito feliz comigo quando soube da história ...
Nós brigávamos muito, mas tínhamos também muitos momentos alegres. Nas noites em que meus pais saíam para jantar, fazíamos todo o tipo de bagunça. Às vezes uma de nós deitava em uma rede para que as outras a balançassem com toda força, até que a rede batesse no teto. Quando nos tornamos adolescentes, os meninos atiravam pedras nas janelas da nossa casa para chamar a nossa atenção e depois faziam serenatas. Nós todas jurávamos que nunca íamos dizer nada disso para nossos pais... Lembro-me dos momentos de cumplicidade, dos momentos em que nos sentíamos infelizes e confortávamos uma a outra, dos momentos de felicidade que, evidentemente, achávamos impossível não compartilhar com as outras irmãs.
Naturalmente, todos esses momentos também tinham que ser compartilhados com os nossos primos. Dezenas deles. Nós viajávamos com nossos primos, dormíamos nas casas deles ou eles na nossa, brincávamos e brigávamos com nossos primos. Nenhum almoço era completo se pelo menos um deles não estivesse presente. Nossa família era como um grande clã onde ninguém podia ficar sozinho para desfrutar de um momento de solidão. Tudo tinha que ser feito com os nossos pais, irmãs, primos e tias.
Mas, se por acaso estivéssemos sozinhas uma noite, eu e minhas irmãs adorávamos conversar no escuro por horas e horas. A gente tinha tanta coisa pra falar que às vezes o dia amanhecia e ainda estávamos acordadas, confidenciando nossos sonhos e desejos. Ouvindo as vozes das minhas filhas no quarto ao lado, fico feliz de perceber que os laços de família continuam fortes e passando de geração em geração.
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