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  • I spend most of my time between "homes" in Argentina and in Colorado. I moved to Boulder less than a year ago, so it would be unfair for me to call it "home". Or would it?

    I've been back less than a week, and yet, I feel as much at home here as I did in Buenos Aires or in New York. "Home is where the heart is", people say, but what if your heart is divided into a million little pieces because your loved ones are scattered all over the place?

    Today I looked around for something that would tell me I am really home. And my eyes rested upon these black pots which I bought in Mexico in the mid seventies. My daughter Jenni was only three or four, and she is about to turn forty (yikes!).

    We bought them in Oaxaca from a very old woman called Doña Rosa, who had beautifully weathered skin, grey hair and strong hands. These black pots survived many moves, and are almost as old as Jenni, and I, almost as old as Doña Rosa was.

    I'm home.

    Como paso mis días dividida entre casas en Buenos Aires y Colorado, no tengo idea cuál verdaderamente es mi hogar. A Boulder me mudé hace menos de un año, y no sé si sería justo llamarla "casa". ¿ O si?

    Hace menos de una semana que volví, y, sin embargo, me siento tan en casa acá como en Buenos Aires, o en New York. Dicen que el hogar es donde está tu corazón, pero qué pasa si tu corazón esta dividido en millones de pedacitos por tener familia por todo el mundo?

    Hoy estuve buscando algún objeto que me hiciera sentir en casa. Mis ojos se posaron sobre estas vasijas de cerámica negra que compré en México a mediados de los '70. Mi hija Jenni tenía 3 o cuatro años, y está por cumplir 40 (que horror!).

    Las compramos en Oaxaca, de una vieja llamada Doña Rosa, que tenía la piel muy gastada por el sol, pelo largo gris, y manos muy fuertes.

    Estas vasijas sobrevivieron tantas mudanzas, y tantas movidas, y son casi tan viejas como Jenni, y yo, casi tan vieja como era Doña Rosa.

    Estoy en casa.
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