This morning I was sitting on the terrace of a bar, having a coffee and a small slice of toast with olive oil and tomato.

One of those simple mornings in Córdoba that I have missed so often during my years living in Japan.

While I was having breakfast, I saw several grandmothers walk past with their grandchildren. Something so ordinary, so normal, that perhaps when it is close at hand, you do not realize everything it means.

And suddenly I thought of my two children: Teo and Sonia.

I do not want to judge myself harshly or turn this reflection into a reproach against anyone. But I would have liked them to have had more experiences like these too: walking with their grandparents, listening to their stories, playing with their cousins and growing up surrounded by uncles, aunts, grandmothers and all that family bustle that is part of our way of life.

My children have grown up in Japan, far from their Spanish family. For many years, their everyday family world was mainly that of their mother and father.

And when I am here, watching such simple scenes, I feel a little sadness as I think of everything that distance kept us from sharing.

There are moments from their childhood that we can no longer recover.

But I also understand that this journey has not come too late.

We cannot change what we did not experience, but we can take care of everything that still lies ahead of us.

— ◆ —

After breakfast, we went to visit the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba with Teo and my sister.

And that walk ended up responding, in some way, to the reflection I had had that very morning.

Perhaps Teo did not get to discover Córdoba as a small child, walking hand in hand with his grandparents. But now he was there.

At 17, discovering his father's homeland through his own eyes and with his own sensitivity.

Honestly, my sister and I thought that, given his age, the Mosque might not interest him very much. We imagined a quick visit, a few photographs and then continuing our walk.

But the complete opposite happened.

From the moment we entered, Teo began observing every corner with great interest. He looked at the arches, the columns, the light, the spaces and all those details with a curiosity and respect that deeply surprised us.

He was not simply coming along with us. He wanted to understand what he was seeing.

Sometimes we adults decide too quickly what may or may not interest a young person. We think that, at 17, they will only enjoy video games, the beach, sports or fun activities.

But that day my son taught me something once again.

You can also be 17 and be moved by beauty.

You can also be young and feel respect for history.

You can also listen to a culture, even if you do not yet fully understand everything it has to tell.

As I watched him walk among the arches of the Mosque, I thought that Teo was not just visiting one of the most important places in Córdoba.

He was discovering a part of his father's homeland.

And also a part of himself.

— ◆ —

At 16, I left Córdoba alone, with a suitcase and the dream of making my way as a professional flamenco dancer in Japan.

That path gave me a profession, a life and a family. But it also brought distance, absence and many family moments that my children could not experience.

Difficult paths always come at some cost.

Yet, watching my son inside the Mosque, I understood that they can also lead us to deeply precious memories.

I cannot give Teo and Sonia back the childhood they did not live in Spain.

But I can now bring them closer to their family, to Córdoba, to our history and to the roots that belong to them too.

This journey is not only about showing them places.

It is about opening doors.

About helping my children discover that, although they grew up far away, they belong to this land too.

— ◆ —

Today we have tucked a new treasure into our box:

a morning with coffee and toast;

a slightly sad reflection;

some red and white arches;

and the gaze of a 17-year-old who knew how to pause, observe and listen.

Difficult paths leave us with weariness, doubts and a few wounds.

But perhaps the most precious memories are born of those very paths.

Difficult paths. Precious memories. And still so much life to share with Teo and Sonia.

“We cannot recover the past, but we can fill the present with family, roots and precious memories.”

— ◆ —

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