We were the ones who passed by.
Only we are the past."
I'm so used to my Saturdays being for washing, cleaning, and organizing the house that breaking the rigid pattern becomes a war problem. Warlike in my mind.
Please, "myself," get rid of that uncompromising monotony!
Look, listen, read... I've had to change some important things in my routine, since many times I don't have electricity to at least do the basics. So, despite the fact that life has become a bit complicated for me (amazingly 😬) I proved to myself that I can have more free time at home despite all that. We also learn from difficult things, because we have the power to change our reality on certain occasions just by relocating an object (or a habit) from one place to another because where it is now only offers shadows and doubts.
So, this weekend, after the best hairdresser in my neighborhood put some order into the madness reigning in my head, I went to a party designed for fairly young adults celebrating a second reunion after having studied at a scholarship school more than 35 years ago, alongside their old teachers. Something that has been happening very pleasantly for quite some time now with each group of graduates from all the educational centers in the country, as if it were a tradition adopted by our latest generations.
I estimate that the largest remaining generation in our archipelago ranges in age from 40 to 75... the youngest have left, and those who remain will continue to leave due to the Great Depression.
But this time, the gathering belonged to my boyfriend. It was his party, his people, and his youthful atmosphere... you can't imagine the number of anecdotes I've heard about him, plus the epic stories between students and teachers who ended up forgiving their pranks time and time again.
Oops, I think I can see a finger in the camera! It was just a nice moment between a teacher and his student.
But it was a time when human relationships were respected and deepened, to the point where today they feel a deep joy every time they decide to get together again to dance, laugh, and tell each other the same surreal stories of the moment.
And the best part, of course, was the music. Everyone ordered the same as when you go out to eat at a restaurant: please,the musical menu!
Oh my God! Billie Jean by Michael Jackson was the first song that played on the speakers as soon as I arrived, people were trying to perform the famous and difficult choreographies that the king of pop invented, and I was just trying not to laugh too excitedly because come on! we are not 16 years old anymore to wiggle like that... they looked like robots trying to slide their shoes on the floor like Michael Jackson did... or just trying to catch up with breakdancing... a deliberate and frugal act driven by old emotions.... 😂
What I didn't tell you is that they tried to breakdance, but all they managed to do was make us laugh.
People were asking for old and wild pop, as well as heavy rock... while I was hooked on that song... 🎶 I'm a BarbieGirl in my Barbie World...🎶 ...Really, do you remember that? I was already tapping my feet to the beat, but I didn't have the courage to run onto the dance floor to release my desire to dance with Aqua.
After so many years, it still brings me joy to listen to her, at least that's what it conveys to me, but I don't deny that I now find her childish and girlish due to the change in perspective that occurs with age, right?
But what did surprise me—and I told myself, these people are really crazy about music—was a jewel of emeralds and rubies: Born in the U.S.A., by Bruce Springsteen. If the people of my country had understood the lyrics of this song back then, today it would be an anthem of courage and valor for shouting out what hurts us most about our own society.
Music is an excellent weapon of struggle and denunciation... Do you know that, do you know that? My God, it can be so powerful if you listen to it inside your heart... and at the same time, I'm so disappointed in people who don't see, who don't hear, who don't understand, who watch life pass by without the will to live, as if others have the right to do so, not you over yourself.
Pardon, Pardon,for the excess, was the Bruce song that hit me in the center of my chest.
My foot was definitely moving, am I going to dance or not?
Luckily, Van Van arrived with his Azúcar, and like any true Cuban, my body shook. There isn't a Cuban of my generation who doesn't love these guys; they are, they were, overwhelming and powerful, and I firmly accuse them of having forced me to learn to dance casino, and ruedas de casino, and whatever mess I made of my body, because if I still have some pride in Latin music, I owe it to them.
The truth is, it felt so good.
I was in a place where the past wasn't past, time didn't come and go. It was us who believed the past was behind us, but it turns out we ourselves are the past...
Thank you, music, for existing.
Always very grateful for your reading.
The text is entirely my own
All photos are my property
Translation done with Deep Translate, free versión
