When 9 years old, Marcos’ and Flavio’s Mom-to-be Experienced her Future

Alba, Marcos and Flavio’s mom, says it quite clearly, starting in Flavio’s book the few pages dedicated to how she has lived all the changes brought by those two children:

‘I believe my two sons came through me simply because I have managed to remember. Now I know. All the children know, but when they grow up they forget the most essential thing.

When I was nine, I was living in a small village at the edge of the forest. We were about to move to Buenos Aires. I was going to leave this place I loved so much, where I had been born and had grown up, surrounded by light and nature, to go to an enormous city of concrete. I was upset and sad, but there was nothing  I could do. It was my parents taking the decisions.


It was the time of the siesta. A magical time, I was playing alone in the back of the house. That’s when something happened: time seemed to stop. Everything remained suspended. I didn’t perceive any more the heat of the full midday, the murmur from the mountain. I felt I was being observed. There was somebody behind me observing me, observing that child that I was. But suddenly I was also the one who was observing: a woman, looking with love and nostalgia at the little girl she had been.

It was my first contact, intense but fugitive, with the entirety of my existence. This woman was the mother of two children and had a companion by her side. She had come back to this place by constructing a bridge of love and understanding through time, by remembering the child who was an integral part of her destiny.

I experienced the splendor of being and of knowing, of being whole, connected with the totality of myself. When going back to being nine, the pain of the approaching departure had dissipated. I felt lighter and protected. I knew that going away from the place of my origins was a part of the order of my life.

On that day I made a solemn vow to myself: I promised myself not to forget. To remember for ever, even if the normal thing is to forget. To remember that it is possible to remember.

Years later, when already a teenager, I meet a man. I have hardly seen him that I recognize him. He is the man who accompanied the woman that I am going to be in the future, the father of the children who will come. I know but he doesn’t know. It’s a hard shock for me. It is rare that people remember the future, but a certitude quietens me. Time has to unfold, and the moment of our meeting will come.’




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