My hourglass

My hourglass

I was in the pharmacy and I just ran into an imposing blue-eyed girl, with wild blonde hair and a contagious smile. When she seemed to recognize me, she didn’t hesitate to ask me if I was the 18-year-old that she remembered. And I’m about to turn 35.

My ego was more than satisfied and my face was a bit distorted. 17 years have passed since the last time we saw each other? Because I remember her hiding behind her mother’s skirt as if it was yesterday.

I realized that my hourglass overturned some time ago that it has stopped being immediate. The past looks further than ever. Memories begin to add up to decades, and what used to be my nursery is now an apartment building.

Patricia Sanes


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