Miriam 20 – Maybe it’s because it’s been a sunny Saturday, or maybe because I realized that next week is April, the month when every year I feel like sprouting again like a cherry branch. Maybe it’s because.. I don’t know. But today I don’t want to think about what I am missing these days. I want to think, dear Andre, of all the things I’ve earned during these 20 days. I want to think of the beauty – because there is beauty in everything, you just have to work hard to see it.. I’ve always believed it’s true – that this absurd situation has brought out.
The beauty of not being in a hurry.
The beauty of being able to carry out things and not leaving them hanging.
The beauty of allowing myself the luxury of stopping to think, and think, and think.
The beauty of resuming reading and teaching my kids to do the same every night before they go to bed.
The beauty of resuming writing.
The beauty of getting startled for the life to come.
The beauty of being, despite everything, at peace with the world.
The beauty of discovering that there are friends that truly love me the way I love them.
The beauty of knowing I’m being missed by others as much as I miss them.
The beauty of being with my family, during this storm.
The beauty of knowing that we are all in this together, not against someone, but for someone, in fact, for everyone.
The beauty of getting in touch with old friends, feeling for them the same love of the old days.
The beauty of losing contacts with others, because it means there wasn’t much to say.
The beauty of knowing that, when all this will be over, we will be better, “like a beautiful movie that leaves everyone speechless”.
I found beauty in the storm. I hope, dear Andre, that you can find it as well.
Andrea 20 – I find my great beauty every day in the small things I wasn’t used to notice. I try to write them down, to close the list of all the moments of joy that gave life to my Saturday. Vale’s face, after waking up from a nightmare, gave me comfort and a window into the future: I stopped to stare at her for five minutes, while she was sleeping, thinking about our relationship, as I never did this past year. Breakfast on the balcony: it’s not huge but big enough to put a small table and enjoy coffee, rusks and rice milk, under the sun of an almost April at 10 am. The thought of the tart Vale promised to make, tomorrow, and the smell of warm cake invading the kitchen. The floors I wiped, like every Saturday morning, and the sensation of clean and freshness they gave the house, like a weekly rebirth. The haircut Vale gave me with the electric shaver, that allows me to look in the mirror without feeling the heaviness of the lockdown. The stale whole wheat bread we put in the microwave and used to cook the octopus. My great beauty is all there: in the small things that today are worth a lot.