Love will keep us together

Today I was awakened. I revisited Hope and Joy. We shared a meal, lunch, and reminisced on times long since passed. I questioned hope “where did you go?” I begged joy not to desert me. They smiled, eyes white with mercy and smiles brightened by forgiveness. 

Garfo e faca in hand, they asked if I enjoyed my food. I responded with gratitude, and we paid the check. In the clearing facing the restaurant, we memorialized the moment in sunlight and fresh air. Joy gave me herbal tea, and Hope cooled with lime. 

Upon our arrival home, I retired to my bedroom to rest and reflect on the day. My belly was full, my palette satisfied, but I ached for the permanence of Hope and Joy. Yet, I refrained, a coward trapped in ego, and stayed chained to my bed.

Joy appeared in the doorway, asking me for one favor. She begged me to stay, or at least to promise to return. She held me close, and her small frame suddenly doubled in strength. I looked into Joy’s eyes, wet with love.

What I had done to deserve such a blessing is known only to God. I bowed my head, heavy with gratitude and inspiration. In some way, I was determined to carry this with me the rest of my days. Someone found me worthy of love, after such a short time of knowing. During my stay, my tongue tripped over words, my hands fumbled with pots and pans, and my eyes glossed over details. Yet Joy and Hope welcomed me without pause. They loved me and encouraged me to truly know such a feeling.

Loath to slow down, for fear of missing out, we do not fully consume that which is love. The sensation brings fear of never knowing it again and the strength of its eternal support, at the same time. To realize, though, that I had denied myself such an organic, simple, and pure gift in pursuit of the saccharin flavor nestled in desire of instant gratification humbled me to the point of great shame.

One week has elapsed, and one week remains. I have discussed, and will continue to discuss, law, culture, tradition, and translation. My instructors are learned professors and eager students. However, I learned the lesson of the value of love, and how to treasure it, from the only teacher best suited for the charge: a mother. From her womb, her breast, her hands, and her heart the mother feeds and protects. She sacrifices herself and passionately share her children, the fruit of her tree. They carry her love and articulate it at all times, consciously or not.

Thank you to Brasil, for adopting me. Thank you to her children, who graciously shared with me their mothers. Thank you, Vera, for your teachings. You made me slow down to know that I am loved and that I must remember to wear such a crown of value as only a queen might.

What meaning is there in what we do if we do it without love?

Fique a vontade. Brasil me deu saudade.

There is no true translation one can speak for such an expression. Like the law, saudade requires study…experience…dedication…humility…an opening of the vessels we call the heart and the mind.

I love you, Brasil. Te amo, Vera. Obrigada.