Como ahora vivimos en países distintos, no pude llevar a mi suegra a comer su comida favorita, pero eso no fue impedimento para que reciba de mí mucho más que una llamada.

Mi suegra: nunca he tenido problemas con ella porque no es una mujer metiche, ni soberbia a pesar de lo que posee, de hecho, desde que le dio el accidente cerebro vascular hace algunos años nos hemos unido mucho más. Ella siempre fue quien defendió la relación sentimental de su hija que tenía conmigo, dándonos soporte para que mi suegro, con el ceño fruncido, no nos tirara el muerto porque con él sí he tenido encuentros complejos, aunque eso ya pertenece a la prehistoria.

Mis amigos siempre me preguntaban: "¿oye güero, son celos de papá o qué se trae tu suegro contigo?"

¿Celos de papá?, ¡al carajo!, nada de eso, su rechazo fue porque yo no era dueño de un Rolls-Royce, Bugatti o un Bentley en la universidad y más bien agarraba el autobús porque yo no quería tomar prestado todos los días el Volkswagen de mi papá; mi suegro no me quería porque vivía en un barrio común y corriente, pero cómodo y en casa propia; él no me aceptaba porque me hacían falta recursos para cubrir los semestres de la carrera y solía vender algunas cosas y así completar el valor total, pues mis padres me ayudaban con un porcentaje porque no me gustaba endeudarme con empresas que ofrecían créditos educativos.

Con esa actitud nunca me hubiese caído bien, pero todo cambió cuando nació mi primer cachorro, antes, creo que todavía guardaba la esperanza de que Marcela se divorciara de mí. Es cierto que lo que más me gustaba de mi suegro era su hija, pero no su dinero como él pensaba y eso se lo demostré sin huir como gallina sin cabeza al enterarme de su carrera militar: ¡ni un pinche centavo he tomado de lo que le pertenece a mi esposa!, todo lo que ahora ella y nuestros hijos poseen ha sido por mi trabajo: acción que considero, es la única manera que tienes de taparle la boca a la gente que habla sin saber ni pensar.

Los suegros y las suegras son una caja de pandora, para muestra, un botón: antes de conocer a mi esposa, por mi expediente amoroso pasó otra futura suegra que realmente, aunque ahora no sé si estará viva o muerta, espero de todo corazón que haya cambiado.

La mamá de mi ex novia se llamaba Laura y desde que supo que yo era el pretendiente de Verónica, su hija, tuve dificultades para acercarme a su casa; doña Laura pertenecía a la comunidad afrodescendiente, activista de algunos grupos en pro de su identidad étnica; tenía ciertos conflictos con el color de la piel… era racista, esa es la pura verdad.

Ella no podía aceptar que un güero fuera novio de su hija; tenía un trauma pasado: su marido murió en un violento asalto perpetrado por un gringo rubio y ojiazul, lo apuñaló al salir del restaurante donde trabajaba como chef. Verónica era una niña cuando eso pasó y doña Laura le inculcó que los blancos son malos, el diablo en persona prácticamente.

¿Por qué Verónica tuvo una relación conmigo siendo también mulata?, porque ella sabía que no era cierto lo que su madre le decía, ella sabía que la calidad humana, que el corazón de la gente no se pesa por el color, ni por el estatus, ni por nada que no fueran sus propias actitudes y decisiones personales.

Recuerdo que en una ocasión fui a visitarla a su casa porque era el segundo mes que llevábamos de novios y la invité a comer. Timbré, estaba esperando que me abrieran, pero no pasó, sino que al rato sentí que el cielo me estiló de la cabeza a los pies… era la señora Laura quien me había aventado agua fría desde el balcón. Con el carácter que tengo hubiera armado una bronca mundial, pero me dije a mí mismo: "¡por amor, paciencia!"

Cada vez que llamaba a Verónica para saber de ella porque no tenía celular y si por desgracia contestaba mi ex suegra, se inventaba la ausencia de su hija diciendo: “no se encuentra”, o si estaba muy enojada al escuchar mi voz simplemente colgaba y me dejaba con la palabra en la boca sin que pudiera argumentar algo más, por ese comportamiento comencé a hacerme una mala imagen de la señora Laura al punto de pensar que tenía una escoba y volaba cada 31 de octubre acompañada de un gato para ir a la universidad de los conjuros, y que un día no muy lejano, a medianoche, atravesaría la ventana de mi habitación para morderme una pata.

El final de mi romance interracial fue predecible, duró 5 meses, no pude más, sobre todo porque entendí que la señora Laura no iba a cambiar de postura por más que le demostrara lo contrario a través del cariño de futuro yerno y amor hacia su hija. Una vez, Verónica llegó a mi casa para contarme que su madre la había corrido de su casa al ponerla a elegir entre ella y yo, con esa actitud, solo pude ver inmadurez porque las personas entienden mal el concepto del amor y sus vertientes, por eso es que me parece ridículo y muy fuera del lugar el hecho que haya personas que pongan a elegir a sus parejas entre sus mascotas y ellas.

Al igual que Verónica, yo también era mayor de edad, así que sabía lo que tenía que hacer: di por terminada nuestra relación y le dije que retornara a su hogar porque si de novios pasaban cosas irregulares con su madre, de casados sería mucho peor, que yo no iba a aguantar veneno de escorpión azul en la comida y menos estaba dispuesto a tolerar que volviera a sacar a su chiguagua solo para que me atacara sin razón... ah, y por extraño que pareciera, la señora Laura tenía un perro (que más parecía una rata) y era blanco.

Le aconsejé a Verónica que junto con su hermana mayor, quien sí me apreciaba también, llevaran a su madre con un buen terapeuta que la ayudara a superar su trauma pasado por el asesinato de su esposo y desde esa tarde en que hablamos en serio no volvimos ni a saludarnos como amigos porque eso fue lo que yo le pedí, por ella, para que no tuviera más problemas por causa mía.

Pasaron 5 años y encontré a Verónica saliendo de una tienda a la que fui a comprar, para esa época yo ya estaba comprometido con Marcela para casarme. Ella me miraba esperando un saludo, sin embargo no dije nada; si tal vez hubiese hablado primero yo hubiese contestado, pero al quedarse callada, mejor para mí. No había cambiado, solo su cuerpo al estar embarazada, iba tomada de la mano de un chavo, igual a ella por su color de piel... así que doña Laura se salió con la suya.

Una noche busqué a Marcela para llevarla de paseo, me acuerdo tanto que nos detuvimos en un mirador a contemplar en horizonte y comenzamos a jugar al: “sincérate conmigo”, por esa razón, le conté acerca de Verónica y su madre… casi se orina de la risa, sobre todo cuando escuchó sobre el baldazo de agua, el feo perro rata, y porque le dije que el vino más amargo para mí es el ¡vino mi ex suegra!

Y ya güeyes, no diré nada más por hoy, solo que: ¡de las pócimas, escamoles y chapulines que me libré!, y todo porque muchas veces el color de la piel, para algunas personas, sí importa.

Ya los leo más tarde.

Chau.

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

ENGLISH VERSION:

How's it going, Blurt folks?

I am telling you the gossip that you are surely coming to read in my meditation cave:

Right on National Mexican Gastronomy Day (November 16), my mother-in-law is celebrating her birthday, on a day when we try to protect and preserve Mexican cultural heritage through the country's cuisine, which is very diverse and has spread throughout the world.

Since we now live in different countries, I couldn't take my mother-in-law to eat her favorite food, but that didn't stop her from receiving much more than a phone call from me.

My mother-in-law: I've never had any problems with her because she's not a nosy woman, nor arrogant despite what she has. In fact, since she had a stroke a few years ago, we've become much closer. She was always the one who defended her daughter's relationship with me, giving us support so that my father-in-law, with a frown, wouldn't blame us because I have had complex encounters with him, although that already belongs to prehistory.

My friends always asked me: "Hey, güero, is it dad's jealousy or what's your father-in-law doing with you?"

Dad's jealousy? To hell with it! Nothing of the sort. His rejection was because I didn't own a Rolls-Royce, Bugatti or Bentley at university and I would rather take the bus because I didn't want to borrow my dad's Volkswagen every day; my father-in-law didn't like me because he lived in a normal, but comfortable neighborhood and in his own house; he didn't accept me because I needed the resources to cover the semesters of college and I used to sell some things to complete the total amount, because my parents helped me with a percentage because I didn't like getting into debt with companies that offered educational loans.

With that attitude I would never have liked him, but everything changed when my first puppy was born; before, I think I still held out hope that Marcela would divorce me. It is true that what I liked most about my father-in-law was his daughter, but not his money as he thought and I showed him that without running away like a headless chicken when I found out about his military career: I have not taken a single fucking cent of what belongs to my wife! Everything that she and our children now have has been due to my work: an action that I consider to be the only way you have to shut up people who talk without knowing or thinking.

Fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law are a Pandora's box, for example, a button: before I met my wife, another future mother-in-law passed through my love file who really, although now I don't know if she is alive or dead, I hope with all my heart that she has changed.

My ex-girlfriend's mother was called Laura and since she found out that I was the suitor of Verónica, her daughter, I had difficulties getting close to her house; Mrs. Laura belonged to the Afro-descendant community, an activist of some groups in favor of their ethnic identity; I had certain conflicts with the color of my skin… I was racist, that's the honest truth.

She couldn't accept that a white guy was her daughter's boyfriend; she had a past trauma: her husband died in a violent assault perpetrated by a blond, blue-eyed gringo, who stabbed him as he left the restaurant where he worked as a chef. Veronica was a child when that happened and Mrs. Laura instilled in her that white people are bad, practically the devil in person.

Why did Veronica have a relationship with me even though she was also a mulatto? Because she knew that what her mother told her wasn't true, she knew that human quality, that people's hearts are not weighed by color, or by status, or by anything other than their own attitudes and personal decisions.

I remember that on one occasion I went to visit her at her house because it was the second month that we had been dating and I invited her to eat. I rang the bell, I was waiting for them to open the door, but it didn't happen, instead after a while I felt that the sky had sprayed me from head to toe... it was Mrs. Laura who had thrown cold water on me from the balcony. With my character, I would have raised a huge fuss, but I told myself: "For love, patience!"

Every time I called Veronica to check on her because she didn't have a cell phone, and if unfortunately my ex-mother-in-law answered, she would make up the fact that her daughter was missing, saying: "she's not there," or if she was very angry when she heard my voice, she would simply hang up and leave me with the word in my mouth without me being able to argue anything further. Because of that behavior, I began to form a bad image of Mrs. Laura to the point of thinking that she had a broom and flew every October 31st accompanied by a cat to go to the university of spells, and that one day not too far away, at midnight, she would go through the window of my room to bite my paw.

The end of my interracial romance was predictable, it lasted 5 months, I couldn't take it anymore, especially because I understood that Mrs. Laura was not going to change her position no matter how much I proved the opposite through the affection of my future son-in-law and love for her daughter. One time, Veronica came to my house to tell me that her mother had thrown her out of the house by making her choose between her and me. With that attitude, I could only see immaturity because people misunderstand the concept of love and its aspects, that is why it seems ridiculous and very out of place to me that there are people who make their partners choose between their pets and them.

Like Veronica, I was also of age, so I knew what I had to do: I ended our relationship and told her to go back home because if irregular things happened with her mother when we were dating, it would be much worse when we were married. I was not going to tolerate blue scorpion venom in my food and I was even less willing to tolerate her taking her chihuahua out again just for it to attack me for no reason... oh, and as strange as it may seem, Mrs. Laura had a dog (that looked more like a rat) and it was white.

I advised Veronica that, together with her older sister, who did appreciate me as well, they should take their mother to a good therapist who would help her overcome her past trauma from the murder of her husband and from that afternoon on, when we talked seriously, we did not even greet each other as friends because that was what I asked her for, for her, so that she would not have more problems because of me.

Five years passed and I found Veronica leaving a store where I went to buy something, at that time I was already engaged to Marcela to get married. She looked at me expecting a greeting, however I did not say anything; if perhaps she had spoken first I would have answered, but by staying silent, it was better for me. She had not changed, only her body, being pregnant, she was holding the hand of a boy, just like her because of his skin color... so Mrs. Laura got her way.

One night I looked for Marcela to take her for a walk, I remember so well that we stopped at a lookout to contemplate the horizon and we started to play: “be honest with me”, for that reason, I told her about Verónica and her mother… she almost peed herself laughing, especially when she heard about the bucket of water, the ugly rat dog, and because I told her that the most bitter wine for me is my ex-mother-in-law’s wine!

And now guys, I won’t say anything else for today, just that: about the potions, escamoles and grasshoppers that I was spared! And all because many times the color of the skin, for some people, does matter.

I'll read them later.

Bye.

Fuente-Source