Mientras escucho "Flying", de James Newton Howard, de la banda sonora de la película "Peter Pan", de 2003, siento en mi corazón un sentimiento algo amargo. Mi segunda hija, Susi, volará el próximo sábado 18 a Helena, Montana, USA, en donde estudiará segundo de bachiller (grado 12) el próximo curso académico. Va a estar casi un año fuera de casa, viviendo sola, siendo una nueva hija en una familia norteamericana.
Para un padre siempre supone un desgarro separarse de uno de sus hijos, de uno de sus vástagos (DRAE: "Renuevo o ramo tierno que brota del árbol o de otra planta"). Sentimos que una parte nuestra se nos desgarra, se nos arranca, y esa parte, en caso de un hijo, es un trozo de corazón.
Pasaremos casi un año sin verla, sin oir su voz (en directo, pues ahora gracias a internet, la oiremos y la veremos casi a diario vía electrónica, pero no es lo mismo), sin ver su carita, su reacción ante las tristezas de la vida, o ante las alegrías, sin oir el timbre de la puerta y la entrada en aluvión de ella y sus amigas, sin oír el rasgar de su guitarra y su cristalina voz cantando las canciones que ella misma compone, sin presenciar su enfado ante tantas contradicciones, sus horas de estudio encerrada en su habitación, su bolsa de fútbol siempre preparada para los entrenamientos y los partidos.
Para un padre es difícil todo esto, tener a una hija tan lejos, tan joven, tanto tiempo.
Pero sin embargo, ella está ilusionadísima, no ha parado de chatear con sus nuevas hermanas desde que supo su destino, y ante tal aventura se muestra encantadísima. Sabemos que es lo mejor para ella, y confiamos en que sabrá aprovechar esta valiosa oportunidad de crecer, de madurar, de aprender, que sus padres no tuvimos.
Pero un año pasa rápido, muy rápido, y pronto (s.D.q.) la tendremos de vuelta.
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While I'm listening "Flying", composed by James Newton Howard, from the soundtrack of the 2003 film "Peter Pan", I hear a bitter feeling, and I feel it in my heart. My second daughter, Susi, departs next Saturday 18th to Helena, Montana, USA, where the next academic year she'll study second high school (grade 12). She will be nearly a year away from home, living alone, being a new daughter in an American family.
A parent always assumes a tear separated from one of his sons, one of its offshoots ("renewal or tender bouquet that sprouts tree or other plant"). We feel that a part of our us tears, and that part, in the case of a child, is a piece of heart.
We will spend nearly a year without seeing it, without hearing her voice (live, because now, thanks to the internet, we hear and see her almost every day via electronic, but it is not the same), without seeing her face, her reaction to the sorrows of life, or to the joys, without hearing the bell of the door and entry into a barrage of she and her friends, without hearing ripping her crystalline voice and her guitar singing the songs that she herself composed, without witnessing her anger so many contradictions, her hours of study enclosed in the study room, her football bag always ready for training and matches.
For a parent is difficult for all this, having a daughter so far, so young, so much time.
But however, she is excited, she has not stopped to chat with her new sisters since she knew her fate, and before such an adventure is displayed very happy. We know that it is the best for her, and we are confident that she will be able to take advantage of this valuable opportunity to grow, mature, learn, an opportunity that their parents didn't have.
But a year goes fast, very fast, and soon she will back.
______________
While I'm listening "Flying", composed by James Newton Howard, from the soundtrack of the 2003 film "Peter Pan", I hear a bitter feeling, and I feel it in my heart. My second daughter, Susi, departs next Saturday 18th to Helena, Montana, USA, where the next academic year she'll study second high school (grade 12). She will be nearly a year away from home, living alone, being a new daughter in an American family.
A parent always assumes a tear separated from one of his sons, one of its offshoots ("renewal or tender bouquet that sprouts tree or other plant"). We feel that a part of our us tears, and that part, in the case of a child, is a piece of heart.
We will spend nearly a year without seeing it, without hearing her voice (live, because now, thanks to the internet, we hear and see her almost every day via electronic, but it is not the same), without seeing her face, her reaction to the sorrows of life, or to the joys, without hearing the bell of the door and entry into a barrage of she and her friends, without hearing ripping her crystalline voice and her guitar singing the songs that she herself composed, without witnessing her anger so many contradictions, her hours of study enclosed in the study room, her football bag always ready for training and matches.
For a parent is difficult for all this, having a daughter so far, so young, so much time.
But however, she is excited, she has not stopped to chat with her new sisters since she knew her fate, and before such an adventure is displayed very happy. We know that it is the best for her, and we are confident that she will be able to take advantage of this valuable opportunity to grow, mature, learn, an opportunity that their parents didn't have.
But a year goes fast, very fast, and soon she will back.
