She found herself trapped in a body she couldn’t recognize. Looking at her wrinkled and spotted hands was an upsetting experience. Her eyes filled with tears, trying to understand what had happened. Joana stood up and realized her legs were not strong and it hurt to walk, but still she went to the nearest mirror.
The reflection was unexpected. In her head she was twenty, a young mother of two, living in a country house where she took care of goats, the conuco and the children. She never learned to read but was smart enough to count the money and understand the geometry of meals: A well-rounded arepa, the perfect slices of ripe plantain, the tasty and well-presented dishes. The house was made of cut branches glued with mud, the roof too plus palms, and the floor was of compressed ground, which was always miraculously clean.
“Why am I like this?” Joana said while touching her face, validating it was hers.
When she looked at her granddaughter, she seemed to know her, but she didn’t. For a while, she kept rubbing her face and arms, feeling the lack of elasticity, the loose skin, the dryness. A tear rolled down her cheek, but that was all. As soon as she focused on looking at her eyes in the mirror, she saw herself inside the body.
She was still the same person, the essence. The enclosure was not important. She smiled and looked down, concentrated on her memories, connecting the past with the present.
Joana wasn’t thinking about the memories she had lost, but the ones she could still remember. The surrounding people couldn’t understand what was inside of her or why at some point she stopped interacting with them. They attributed it to dementia.
Most people her age lose the ability to take care of themselves. That was not the case. She was self-sufficient but chose to fight alone against oblivion, keeping the puzzle pieces together, living a life that made sense to her, an internal world. She looked happy, a smiley lady. Even when she felt disconnected, her will was stronger than the holes in her memory. Somehow Joana rebuilt her inner universe every minute without anxiety. She had beaten the illness by not paying attention to her losses.
When Joana died, a nurse gave her relatives a recording.
“My dears, I’m recording this while I’m connected to the present time of our shared dimension. I want you to comprehend the fact that we all remain the same person, even when physical pain takes over from time to time, or you become unable of doing a task or turn more wrinkled than a raisin. You can win the fight against decay, but you must rely on yourselves. You are the same kid who played with your friends, the same teen who fell in love, the same adult who learned from their mistakes. You grow old outside, not inside, but it’s your choice. Inside, you should be the same but wiser. Don’t think life is over when you turn into a senior, only if you believe so.”
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