IN RETURN the START 01-12-2011 Today, I attended a program in the TV, in which the subject was the forms to prevent the cancer. The presenters spoke on high the temperature where the foods are prepared and that they finish eliminating the majority nutrient them and necessary vitamins to our health. I remembered then, with homesicknesses, of the stove to the firewood of my mother, always lighted. We took care of not to forget to full the kettle of iron, to have hot water kills for it. Before initiating its daily tasks, my mother placed on the stove its pans of iron, with the meat, the beans and aipim, for being the foods more delayed to cook, and left them, in fire brando, to go cooking to the few, in amenas, healthful temperatures. Of time in when fire placed plus a firewood wood it not to erase.

Seguidamente it was with the dirty fingers of the coal of the firewood or its hair smelling to smoke, but that food had a very special flavor, the flavor of the patience, the lack of haste, flavor of mother affection. But as to conciliate a stove to the firewood with the speed of an Internet of 15 mega? I smell it of smoke in the hair and the dirty nails of coal, with the good appearance that charges in them in the work? A food that delays three hours to be prepared in a stove to the firewood, with the half hour of recess that we have to lunch? One comidinha with taste of the colony with the preference of our children for fast-food? When our mother made a cake, beaten by hand, went placing pitada of affection in each return that the spoon gave in the basin. It left a little of its energy in the foods that prepared. Today we eat cakes made by machines, beaten for strangers, of certain the energy found in the cake the metal is so cold how much beat that it, and its flavor it has taste of strange people, nothing to see with mother affection. those vegetables fresquinhas, harvested in horta with the vital energy of the land? Without agrotxicos, being days stops in the shelves of the supermarket. milk quentinho, just taken off of the foam cow, full, taken in the cup with a little of sugar and cinnamon? Today some children find that the cow is the petty cash where milk comes packed.

She is, the search for the progress took in them until the moon. I believe that now the search for health and balance in the light one in return to the start, the good and old stove to the firewood, where all the family seated around to be heated and to talk, the parents or the brothers oldest went counting histories, while they taught new, lies of principles, good ways, moral union, values, respect and many other things that already nor we remember more. If you lived this experience, with certainty you feel homesicknesses. What such to return to the start? He will be that still we can?