Saturday, ten hours and twenty-one minutes in the morning. Insistent rain falling. A couple goes inside a bakery to have breakfast.

Two coffees with milk and three cheese breads, please.

She seems to be a little agitated. She does not take her eyes off of him. He seems calm, one of these people who already can live in a time slightly slower than the clock.

The age difference is striking. Not over forty, she. Close to eighty, he.

He looks outside through the window half open.

She smiles, lovingly.

Have all your kids been born here in this city?

He thinks, for a little awhile... - Yes, all of them... Three girls.

And you? Where were you born? - Asks the woman again.

I am not from around here. I was born in the countryside... Away from the big city.

And what do you remember from there?

Ah... Many things... - He replies, with a slight smile.

Then, stays quiet. He seems to make some effort to remember something special, but soon gives up. He looks out again, searching for the slight rain.

You know... I guess I had a happy life...

She keeps interested. An interest like the ones you have on a first date. She observes his white hair, his complexion already punished from the years, the blue eyes.

She takes a deep breath. Someone could say it was the breath of a person in love.

Did you get married only once? - She asks, with some shame in her voice.

Yes. Tereza. The mother of my girls. God rest her soul.

She gets a little emotional and embarrassed suddenly. Shows some smile to disguise. Looks at the table. There is bread left.

You can eat. I am done.

Will we have lunch together tomorrow? - He asks, anxiously to hear a yes.

Yes... Of course we will. It is day for us to have lunch together. You know I like very much to be with you, to listen to your stories...

I am somewhat forgetful today, I think. I have told you so little...

That is not a problem. - She says, caring. - There are days we have our memory weaker.

Doctor Mauricio said it is important to keep pulling things out of my mind, always. He says this is like a physical exercise we do to not "rust". - He concluded.

It is true... - She sighs. - We need to take care of our memory...

Again there is a long silence between them.

He returns to glimpse the outside, contemplative.

She notices his face in details, fondly.

She closes her eyes, for a minute, as to make a short pray, a sincere entreaty to a Higher Power.

Opens her eyes, slowly, and asks:

Dad... Dad... May I ask the check?

He nods positively. The bill arrives. She stands up first, goes up in his direction, involves him in a hug and helps him to get up.

That was the routine every Saturday, at ten hours and twenty-one minutes in the morning, for the last ten months.

*  *  *

Were our parents who have given us a body, blessed instrument of work for our progress, as also a home.

Thinking about all this, praise your parents. Take care of them, now when they are old, broken, fragile, or ill.

Do whatever is possible to not leave them in the sad little bedrooms in the back of the house, where nobody goes. Do not give away the pleasure of introducing them to your friends and guests.

Listen what they have to say. Whenever they are capable for it, take them to have the meals with you at the table. Give back, doing it, a small piece of everything you were given by them years ago.

Spiritist Moment Team based on the chapter 7 of the book Ações corajosas para viver em paz, from Spirit Benedita da Silva, psychographed by José Raul Teixeira, ed. Fráter.
March 18.2011.