There is no place that is just a place. There is no place that is not what we have lived, cried, felt, laughed, loved. And, although it happens in any space, there are places that are something more.
It happens to me with this house, it is not just a house; It’s not just a home either. It is something that is breathed in her, as if everything felt was still alive somewhere, hidden in the corners. Oh, the corners! Magical, secret, green; corners, trees, fountain; the garden bench, the armchair in front of the piano, the stone grotto, the pots on the porch, the staircase next to the amphora. I would spend hours naming them and wouldn’t know when to stop!
And it is something beyond memories, of the walks hand in hand with grandmother entering the farmhouse through the main entrance or of the years of games. It’s seeing my children here, running around, talking secretly under the shade of the olive trees, imagining wonderful monsters swimming in the raft, with a beautiful mix of childhood nostalgia and maternal pride. It’s as if looking at them I saw myself through a peephole, as if I were once again the one waiting amusedly behind a cypress to scare the grandfather who approaches and who pretends not to have seen anything so as not to frustrate the sea of laughter that comes later. And I like nothing more than your laugh, sweetheart. That’s my best place, that’s my best song[1].
It’s when I understand why this place is so special: because it is as much mine as it is yours, it is as much ours as yours. Because not only I, nor my parents or brother or grandparents have filled it out. Oh, the corners! They are full of love stories, fantasies. Of couples who say “yes” and of boys and girls who come to live together. Of happy dragons, of towers with princesses, of forest Indians and fairy tale pirates. Of first dances and passionate kisses, of magical reunions and eternal hugs. Of lights, dresses, colors, songs. Of radiant brides, of crying boyfriends, of dream photos. Of precious memories. From you, from them, from you.
Oh, the corners! Maybe they hide a lot, but I think they simply keep it and protect it. We think that we take a little piece of place in our memories and at the end of the day it is our memories, a little piece of ourselves, that stay in some corner, always permeating it.
They say there are places you never leave. Thank you for not having left, for remaining in some way in every corner of Can Ribas. Oh, the corners!
