Macarena, the eternal
It may just be one more person, one of many to whom it is necessary only that moment, that second that never comes … and when it comes, goes, leaving you with the most profound sense of absence, that madrugá. I’m just a macarena but, like any other daughter of the mother of God, one of the lucky ones in which life expectancy prevails as the path to happiness. Over the years we leave behind things, people and experiences, but there is something, like my grandfather, Antonio, who did not die by chance a Dec. 18 … something that does not fail to make as never leave it, ire each and every rise early, each and every day of the year as possible and have a miserable minute, only to see it as ire wanders home by the city that is king, I will go to see Hope fills each and every one of the corners of the tiles on the gently balancing the air, the walls in your face reflected the moon of the night and the sun of the day, I will go see again just stop your dark face, your eyes filled with orange, I’ll go until my legs and my heart fail me, I’ll go just to see you Macarena. The years pass, the lives of people off, and the light of other born, the way we finished and life memories we just stop our family … and the love, affection for her, I’m sure that each one of the splendors of its emeralds are flashes of our souls and the love for her, and me and many, that’s one of the best things in life fails. For all that I answer a resounding yes, when I am asked whether they also cry with her, so I’m proud to be macarena, because being it is another world, is being, feel, laugh and mourn, is to be so, is to be the mother of God, is to be of Hope Macarena. The centuries pass, time ran out, came new fashions, new roots and new cultures, as I said the preacher … it always remains, she is the Macarena, or whatever it is, the eternal.
NªHªDª Carolina Roman Hidalgo