Esperança

Ela percorreu o corredor se sentindo, como sempre, sozinha.
Um pai que lhe fora negado durante tantos anos, uma pilha enorme de mentiras, de mágoas acumuladas e doloridas...
Sempre esperou por isso, mas e se, por ironia, ele não fosse nada daquilo?
Nada de sonho, nada de bom, nada daquela ilusão? E se aquele pai perdido também não tivesse nada de... Seu?
Seria mais um lugar para não pertencer? Mais um rosto pra tentar esquecer?
Abriu a porta.

 O homem de costas devia ter quarenta anos. Olhando a paisagem da janela, parecia tão normal quanto alguém pode ser. Ela andou devagar até estar a uma distância da qual seria ouvida - apesar de não saber bem o que dizer.

 _Ahn, você...  Pai?

 Ele se virou e seus olhos brilharam como estrelas. Ele sorriu fracamente.
_Ana... Filha?

 Ele correu até ela e a abraçou como se sua vida dependesse disso. 

 _Filha, minha garotinha, eu esperei... Eu queria tanto, você... Ah, meu bem, você nunca mais vai sair de perto desse seu velho pai!

 Ela sorriu. Se aconchegou mais, se agarrando àquela presença que ela nunca teve...
_Pai, senti tanto a sua falta.

 E ela finalmente soube que havia esperança. O pôr do sol na janela era lindo, tão lindo quanto o sol que nascia dentro dela. Nunca mais o vazio, a dor, a última peça finalmente em seu lugar.
E todas as corridas, as histórias, os biscoitos, os sorrisos que eles não tiveram... Não faziam falta.
Tudo o que ela sempre precisou estava naquele abraço, nas palavras, na saudade; tudo estava onde devia estar.
E ela agora pertencia a algum lugar.


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