A year ended when everything seemed just as possible as it was impossible. Another year of migratory challenges, with more than 12,300 foreign minors under the care of our State (what are the stories of these minors who migrate alone?). Another year of protests and injustices: pensioners in Spain, yellow vests in France, turmoil in Chile, and Colombia, and Hong Kong, and Bolivia, and of course Cataluña, the curious decentralized epicenter of state news. Another year when important news was forgotten to give way to the extreme sensationalism of violent stories that feed our society. Another year when 26% of the population lived at risk of poverty. When the low (or even high)-cost AVE did not arrive in Galicia. When forming a government turned into a daily vignette.
But not everything was so bad. Looking back, I am sure that all of us were capable of remembering an instant of beauty or joy in our own particular 2019. A moment when we thought «I am where I am supposed to be,» or when we said, «It could be worst,» or when our chest simply didn’t ache when drawing breath. Although it may sometimes be impossible to see, there is always something positive in our lives, small though it may be, there is always something to hold on to in order to continue finding motives to move forward in our vital journey, no matter how saddened we feel.
This was the year when Maruxa forgot what lasagna was, but it was also the year when we learned to make it again. The year when I saw what I did not want to become but decided what I will be. The year when I resolved to think about these verses from Machado «Hoy es siempre todavía, toda la vida es ahora»–Today is always yet, all of life is now.