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Under the heat of almost 35 degrees typical of the northeast interior, I met her. A remarkable lady, of common appearance, wrinkles marked her face deeply, and her garments said she was a woman of simple origin. My job that day was to sell funeral plans, hers apparently was to convince me that the fullness of her life, or anyone else's, had closed when her feet could not bear the weight of her body and when her health fluctuated between days that she could feed herself in the mornings that she preferred not to open her eyes. Travels to Buíque on business, a nearby town known for having too many rural areas used to be complicated, touching the company of a residence in order to announce funeral services is uncomfortable enough, and when the person who eventually answers the door seems to be over 70, the smile on their face is confused with a brief apology. That morning the hours passed briefly when I was invited in. Walls visibly worn out by time, the furniture denounced the intense use, the house was shelter of many stories. That morning, that woman whose name I do not remember, opened not only the doors of her house but also of her heart. Her children no longer visited her as adults, her parents had died, and loneliness had been her companion for some time. I caught myself wondering what my future would be like when I was that age, would I be alone too? Or could I contemplate the possibility of an old age surrounded by children, grandchildren, and a house with a charming garden as well as in the movies are portrayed? His words were able to leave a valuable message, that how important it is to value moments in family or enjoy good laughs with close friends, adopt street animals or assist some charity, live intensely because time does not rest or wait for you, all this passes quickly and there is no return, the notion that I had at that moment is that when I arrived at that age I would like to have many stories to tell, of unforgettable adventures or periods when I could be in the fine line between knowing that exact moment I was genuinely living. It's hard not to try to look to the future when you're in the flower age as the elders say around here, will I like what I'm going to tell my kids? Will I have good memories when I see the whiplash of my hair? Being afraid of the future is something inherent in our lives, yet living with it every day can do us harm, the ideal is to live delicately today, without hurrying, enjoying delightfully as when we are at a very hungry meal, feeling the flavors crumbling in our mouths. All right, it wasn't a perfect analogy, but it's still valid. Try listening to the sound of the birds over and over, or greeting people with a smile on your face, and even leaving your cell phone at home when you go out with a friend. It's quite a challenge, but enriching.