Imagen de mi autoría generada con PiclumenCuando abrí la caja no entendí nada.
Había una piedra gris y lisa, mas o menos del tamaño de una naranja. Bastante pesada y con una nota, escrita a mano que decía:
“No es un regalo, es tu responsabilidad.”
Era de mi papá.
La noche anterior discutimos muy fuerte, bueno realmente solo discutí yo mientras el me miraba. Le dije que ya estaba harto, que en esta casa nunca reconocían mi esfuerzo.
Que a fulanito le dieron una moto solo por pasar el año, que menganito le daban cada vez que sacaba una buena nota, y yo, que me mataba estudiando, ¿qué recibía?, un “muy bien hijo sigue adelante”, y ya.
Mi papá solo me dijo: Mañana hablamos.
Y hoy amanecí con esta piedra.
Me dio mucha rabia. ¿Esta era la manera mas seria de responder a todo lo que le dije? ¿Burlándose?
La metí a la mochila sin saber bien por qué y durante el día, la saqué varias veces para regodearme en mi desgracia. Me pesaba, literal y mentalmente, pero mientras pasaban las horas empecé a verla de otra forma.
Era la piedra que habíamos recogido en una caminata cuando yo tenía diez años. Mi papá hizo que la cargara durante toda la subida del cerro, yo protesté, obvio, pero él me dijo: Hijo es para que aprendas que lo que te toca, lo cargas, lo llevas adelante y no se negocia.
Y hoy me estaba diciendo lo mismo.
No era un castigo, ni una burla, era un mensaje muy claro:
“Tus buenas notas y tu esfuerzo, no se premian. Son tu responsabilidad. No estás haciendo más que lo que te toca, y eso, hijo, no se celebra, se lleva adelante y no se negocia.”
Ese día entendí que estaba esperando un premio por hacer lo que me tocaba, cumplir.
Que no necesitaba una moto, ni una consola, ni una fiesta cada vez que hacía lo correcto, que lo correcto es cumplir con mi responsabilidad, sin negociar y sin pretender un intercambio.
Desde entonces, esa piedra está en mi escritorio.
Y cuando me agarran esas ganas de reclamar por “lo mucho que doy”, la miro y recuerdo que el camino que elegí, que el esfuerzo que hago, no es para que me aplaudan, sino porque es mío y debo hacerme cargo.
Y porque ahora sé que las responsabilidades que se asumen con el corazón no se cargan… porque son regalos que no se esperan y terminan cambiándolo todo.
Si quieres participar en este contenido
Invito a: @silveiragca82 @osomar357 @ungrancuento
🇬🇧 English Version
Image created by me with PiclumenWhen I opened the box, I didn't understand anything. There was a smooth, gray stone, about the size of an orange. Quite heavy, and with a handwritten note that said: “It's not a gift, it's your responsibility.” It was from my dad. We had a really heated argument last night; well, really, it was just me arguing while he looked at me. I told him I'd had enough; that my efforts in this house were never recognized. That so-and-so was given a motorcycle just for passing the year, that so-and-so was given every time he got a good grade, and I, who was killing myself studying, what did I get? A "very good job, son, keep going," and that was it. My dad just said, "We'll talk tomorrow." And today I woke up with this rock. It made me so angry. Was this the most serious way to respond to everything I said? Making fun of it? I put it in my backpack without really knowing why, and throughout the day, I took it out several times to revel in my misfortune. It weighed on me, literally and mentally, but as the hours passed, I began to see it differently. It was the rock we had picked up on a hike when I was ten. My dad made me carry it all the way up the hill. I protested, obviously, but he told me, "Son, this is so you can learn that what's yours, you carry it, you carry it forward, and you can't negotiate." And today he was telling me the same thing. It wasn't a punishment, nor a mockery; it was a very clear message: “Your good grades and your effort aren't rewarded. They're your responsibility. You're only doing what you're supposed to, and that, son, isn't celebrated; it's carried forward, and it's not negotiated.” That day I understood that I was waiting for a reward for doing what I had to do, for fulfilling my duty. That I didn't need a motorcycle, a console, or a party every time I did the right thing; that the right thing is to fulfill my responsibility, without negotiation or expectation of an exchange. Since then, that stone has been on my desk. And when I get the urge to complain about “how much I give,” I look at it and remember that the path I chose, that the effort I put in, isn't for applause, but because it's mine, and I must take responsibility. And because now I know that responsibilities assumed with the heart are not burdened... because they are gifts that are unexpected and end up changing everything. If you want to participate in this content I invite: @silveiragca82 @osomar357 @ungrancuento
