Who will remember us, our sacrifices and our renunciations in a few generations?

Our life is made up of a certain amount of small puzzle pieces, received at our birth, which ideally represent the days of our existence, apparently all the same but in reality very different from each other, which we must take care of, fill them with more or less intense colors, based on how we will spend the days.

At our birth they are given to us, scattered and confused in the area of life and, day by day, we move one at a time towards the destination area, building the design of our life.

The days lived or consumed will make our endowment of puzzle pieces move from one area to another, in a continuous dance, from sunrise to sunset, this mechanism will never stop again.

As young we look at the messy pile we were born with and we feel invincible, immortal, loaded with time and inclined not to consider the importance of this transition mechanism, aware of the many scattered pieces that await us.

We are very focused on ourselves, on our activities, on the goals that we have given ourselves, on those that others ask us, wrapped up in the whirlwind of things, of needs that seem to be indispensable.

Our eagerness to build an image of ourselves can be, to grasp and consume every desire that we deem indispensable in the moment in which we think, that we can trade our goals for the speed of movement of the pieces of the puzzle of our life, from the primary place to the area where each piece fits with another, without moving anymore.

To be what we would like or what others push us to be, we use the spare time we have, without evaluating the cost, in the belief that we can earn a relevant place among our fellow men, for the present and for the future.

But who will remember us in a few generations?

The children will legitimately enjoy our sacrifices, the grandchildren will have an already somewhat faded memory of our life spent building us up, attributing their social situation than us.

In 100 years, perhaps, they will no longer know who we were, what we did, confusing dates and places, without a great interest in lives spent, also because the more you go away in memories, the less you will enjoy the hoped-for importance.

Our assets, so painstakingly accumulated by bartering our time, will be progressively divided, inherited, sold, perhaps separated and perhaps in the hands of strangers.

No sense of affection for those things that we have painstakingly built and lived for ourselves, all reduced to a value and, sometimes, the heirs will thank their luck if the result of an inheritance falls into their pocket, perhaps struggling to focus on who it comes from, but in the end, what matters is the money or a beautiful property.

If we had built an important company, working day and night, it may be that our children continue our work, but they too will be subject to the laws of life, between ups and downs, and it is said that our name will continue over time.

Many things could change, even the genesis of the activity itself, a memory that is blurred or absent from most who will work within it.

Perhaps we can think that life is today, that our footprint in future generations is an idea that we form, translating the our ego too far ahead, thinking we might be somehow immortal, but things won't always turn out the way we think.

Let the little pieces of the puzzle move slowly during our life, let's color them in warm tones, and don't try to trade them for the thousand desires that could overwhelm our mind.

Nothing is more valuable than time, so let's not disturb the slow movement that the days will mark our lives, let's not ask to go faster, because there will never be back backwards.

Let's look carefully at every single piece of the puzzle, day by day, and let's not be sad if the design of our life is taking shape, fitting piece after piece, day after day, nothing can influence its movement, but let's enjoy every single element, calmly, teaching our children and our friends to take care of them, to hold them close, to heal them and to smile at them.

When we have the last interlocking in hand, we will look at all those we have cared for, loved, colored and lived and we will feel satisfied with the our new home, fearlessly inserting the last missing piece.

Automatic translation. We apologize for any inaccuracies. Original article in Italian.