La Voz de Galicia – June 7, 2026 →
The last time I was at my mother’s house (a couple of months ago), I replaced her old everyday plates with those nice plates that only get used for special occasions. At one point I thought, “Why is she still using these when she has better plates?” So I swapped them without saying anything. But because of this family habit we have of saving and saving everything, I didn’t throw away the yellowed everyday plates. I simply put them on a high shelf in the kitchen. And now, back at my mother’s house, those old plates have returned to their original place, on the table. I asked why, and my mother said: these are fine; the others should be treasured.
It’s curious. Sometimes I think these are behaviors of her generation—the generation that had nothing, and therefore saves and saves. But other times I realize that getting rid of things that are already too old, yet still useful, is something quite difficult for me as well. There is a kind of absurd attachment between myself and the nearly useless object, which is why I can’t bring myself to throw away that handleless bowl that holds my toothbrushes, or those battered house slippers that are falling apart but still do the job.
Last week, in my New York apartment, one of those objects came after me. Precisely, that handleless bowl from the Festival de Cans that I’m so fond of. While cleaning the bathroom, cleaning that broken bowl that holds my toothbrushes, I suddenly cut myself—one of those small cuts, but in such an awkward place that it wouldn’t stop bleeding. And what did I do? I ran my finger under cold water and, with my other hand, made sure the bowl was back in its place, even though I knew perfectly well that it would almost certainly cut me again.
Perhaps, in the end, I’m not all that different from my mother’s generation.
