I met Lydia (she is no longer among us), a woman of 94 years.She is a nice woman, extroverted, cheerful.For me she is Lydia, a woman of 94 years old with a disease that takes away her memory.For me Lydia is Lydia, now, in this moment.I didn’t know her before, for me she is this woman of 94 years old, she forgets what you said just before but she recites poems in French.They told me of her hardness, something yet in sight but Lydia is this woman who lives in the present and I live in the present.For her, the past is lived with memories that seem spoken certainties, the future a warm place in the hands of God.Teacher, writer and painter, a husband for fifty years, eight children and lots of experience that shines through some phrases wise, one above all:art is art.Today she asked me: for my memory to return, is it better to make commitments to remember or can I stay calm and it will come back alone?
