LA VERDADERA REALIDAD SOLO SE DIVISA CON LOS OJOS DEL ALMA

 

Ese día Clara no se había sentido bien como a diario. Si bien sus días se desarrollaban serenos como de costumbre, se había vuelto más aguda la nostalgia de sus recuerdos jóvenes, de su ciudad lejana con sus veredas arboladas y sus edificios estilo francés. Pero sobre todo lo que le empañaba la mirada a veces era el recuerdo de sus compatriotas, gente que aun sin conocerse simpatizaban y nunca dudaban en dar rienda suelta a una broma. ¿Cuántas veces no le había ocurrido sentarse en una confitería a tomar un café y terminar charlando con la gente de la mesa de al lado? Adonde ella había emigrado, eso no ocurría; las fronteras entre todos eran más complejas. Para distraerse de su melancolía, Clara decidió ir al mercado a hacer la compra semanal. Si bien era un día feriado y soleado, por alguna razón ella prefirió no ir a la playa. Sentarse frente al mar y recordar no era lo que le convenía. Terminada la compra y al salir del supermercado, Clara se dirigió hacia su coche ahí estacionado. Al sacar las llaves para abrir las puertas del vehículo, Clara escuchó una voz proveniente del coche de al lado. Levantó la vista y divisó una mujer de pelo negro largo hablando por teléfono en español. Que hablara castellano no era lo que la sorprendió; lo que la dejó atónita fue el acento de la desconocida. Fue entonces que después de cargar la comida en el coche y sentarse al volante, Clara bajó la ventanilla y dirigiéndose a la desconocida le preguntó: “¿Sos argentina?” La mujer contestó que sí, asombrada, pero con una amplia sonrisa; una sonrisa de las que Clara extrañaba y hacía tiempo no veía. Después de ambas confesarse mutuamente lo mucho que deseaban conocer a  otros argentinos, las mujeres intercambiaron teléfonos prometiendo verse pronto. Mientras manejaba, Clara sonrió al darse cuenta de porqué había decidido no ir a la playa ese día.

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Esta historia es verdadera; energía y karma se unen para dirigir nuestras vidas. Si la energía es positiva, el karma también lo será.

LO QUE EL MAR NOS REGALA

 Marina Oppenheimer

Marina Oppenheimer

Licensed psychotherapist

February 5, 2025

Lo que el mar nos regala, lo que a mí me donó

en los años aquellos que empezaban y no terminaban,

en aquellas noches de luz oscura que no acababan,

en los pensamientos de color triste que me acosaban.

Lo que el mar me regaló en aquellas horas marchitas,

en esos instantes de soledad que se acumulaban,

en los recuerdos que me castigaban uno tras otro,

y en las diarias caminatas sobre la arena salada.

Lo que el mar me dio tiene nombres marinos,

olas de espuma que se rinden, vientos que amainan,

ancho mar que con tus aguas transparentes y frías

me enseñaste a tolerar los males. Te estoy agradecida

THERE IS AN ANGEL AT EVERY CORNER

 From my book CUENTOS DEL MÁS ACÁ Y DEL MÁS ALLÁ  (Amazon)

It was in 2007 when I was about to move to Miami Beach after selling the house in Coral Gables where my ex-husband, my son and I had lived for many years. That year, the Portability Act had come out in Florida, allowing owners who moved to a new home to continue paying the same taxes of their sold residence and avoid paying the higher taxes of their new house. The news filled me with joy because since we had bought that house at a low price, its property taxes were also low; above all, the new law diminished my financial concerns as a divorced woman. Still, things were not as simple as I thought. When I went to sign the sale contract of my house, the buyer's lawyer pointed out to me that my name on the house deed was incorrect; they had written María instead of Marina. Although I am quite obsessive with forms and documents, for some reason I had never found the time to redo the deed when I should have. However, that day I had taken with me the deed of sale of our previous house in which my name was correct, and fortunately that was enough to convince him that I was the same person in both deeds. Still, the Portability Act procedure was of a different kind. The employee who assisted me showed right away that she had no intention of being flexible or understanding. Without further ado, she made it clear to me that the wrong name was going to make it impossible for me to be approved for my new apartment’s Portability. In that case I would have had to sell the apartment I had just bought as its property taxes were too high for me to assume. Finally, showing some human compassion, the woman suggested that I go to the Public Records Office to have the name Maria changed to Marina on the sold house deed and thus prove that it was mine. There I went without wasting time and full of hope. However, while the treatment at the Registry was much more respectful, the response of the employee who assisted me was similar: although she believed my story was true, she could not do anything to help me. Without saying a word, I gathered all my papers and quickly walked out the door to hide my tears. I had to walk a block before turning the corner to the right to reach my car’s parking lot. I was walking fast because I wanted to avoid other people’s gaze, so after ten minutes I was almost at the end of the block. It was at that moment that I heard a voice shouting, "Ma'am... Ma’am." As I turned around, I saw the woman I had just spoken to running towards me. I stopped and walked towards her. "We have decided to accommodate your request," she told me, smiling. Had she come one minute later, I would have turned around the corner and disappeared into the crowd.