Grupo de niños, 1931
Fuente: https://artvee.com/
November arrives, a month of meaningful anniversaries, and with it, the first snows and a touch of melancholy—the kind I’ve learned to make peace with.
Italo Calvino taught me long ago that “melancholy is sadness that has acquired lightness.”
But the fact is, when I feel a little sad and low on energy, I turn to sports.
I get active and go out for swimming, gymnastics, tennis, or even martial arts (all indoors, of course, at this time of year).
As soon I cross the threshold of the facilities where the classes are held, I begin to feel the energy bubbling through my body.
The great thing about this way of exercising is that I don’t move a finger, nor does the slightest drop of sweat appear on my forehead.
Yet, I leave the classes revitalized, reconciled with the world, ready for another day full of adventures.
Yes, when I’m feeling slightly melancholic, I accompany my grandchildren to their sports activities. I simply sit in the stands watching them, a smile on my face.
The sheer number of children around me, laughing, shouting, competing in a healthy way—that innocent and pure energy—inspires me, uplifts me, makes me believe in the noblest aspects of the human spirit.
I’m also moved by the devotion of the parents; always attentive, excited, lovingly cheering.
They are the ones who, moreover, uphold the best lesson that sports competition teaches us: glory to the victorious and honor to the defeated.
Undoubtedly, parents and children are the architects of the future.
After so many emotions, I arrive home pleasantly overwhelmed, but flexible, light, and content…
Welcome, November, with its silent snows, loving anniversaries, sports, new beginnings and the hope for a better world.
