I was 70 years old when I left my whole life behind.

I cried in silence. Because I wasn't just leaving a house. I was leaving a whole life. When I arrived in the new country I felt invisible. I didn't understand the language. I didn't know the customs. I had no friends. I had no one to visit or to visit me. My daughter worked long hours and my grandkids were busy with school. I used to spend my days looking out the window. Watching strangers walk down streets that I would never feel mine. Or so I believed. One morning I went out to the front garden with a cup of tea in my hands. Then I saw the neighbor. He was an elderly man, with all white hair, and kind eyes. I was fighting with a huge plant. "I think she's winning," I said pointing to the bush. He let out a lol. —He's been winning over me for years. It was the first time we talked. And also the beginning of it all. His name was Daniel. He was 74 years old. He had come to that country many years earlier, after losing his wife. He had also been a foreigner. I had also been alone. —I know exactly how you feel — he told me one afternoon. — Really? — Yes. The first few months here I was talking to pigeons because they were the only ones that didn't correct my pronunciation. I laughed so hard I cried. And since that day we started meeting each other every afternoon. Daniel was teaching me the language. —Repeat. I would repeat. — No, no. You just said something completely different. —What did I say? —I'd better not translate it for you. We laughed for like minutes. I taught him how to cook, instead. —The onion first. — Why? —Because yes. —That's not an explanation. —It's the explanation of all the grandmothers in the world. Little by little our evenings became a habit. Then a need. And finally a home. My daughter just started joking. —Mom, you spend more time with Daniel than with us. I pretended to be outraged. But deep down, I knew I was right. Because when Daniel knocked on my door, my heart was glad. And that scared me. I was seventy years old. Wasn't it too late to fall in love? I've tried to ignore that feeling for months. But he kept appearing with flowers plucked from his garden. With freshly baked bread. With absurd stories just to make me laugh. Until one winter afternoon, something happened that changed everything. We were walking in the park. I tripped over. And Daniel held me before I fell. For a second we were pretty close. Way too close. We look at each other. And I realized that he felt exactly the same way. No one said anything. Until he spoke. - I thought that after a certain age these things didn't happen anymore. —Me too. —But here we are. Felt tears well down my eyes. —Here we are. He took my hand. And he didn't let go. I will never forget that feeling. It wasn't the intense thrill of the twenties. It wasn't the desperate passion of the thirties. It was something much deeper. Quieter. Safer. It was to find someone who understood each of my scars. And she still wanted to stay. For the following years we live a simple happiness. A shared breakfasts. Slow rides. Movies we ended up sleeping before the end. Medicines organized in small boxes. Forehead kisses. Intertwined hands. Laughs. Lots of laughs. Because love doesn't fade with age. Just change the shape. Un día, mientras estábamos sentados mirando el atardecer, Daniel me dijo: —If I had known that I was going to meet you, I would have endured all the years of loneliness without complaining. I felt my heart break and rebuild at the same time. —And I would have crossed a thousand countries to find you. He kissed my hand. And he smiled. Years later, his health began to deteriorate. I accompanied him to every appointment. In every single treatment. On every difficult night. Until the last day. Before I left, he took my hand. The same hand I had held for so many years. —Thank you for finding me. Those were her very last words. When she left, I felt a part of me leave too. I lived a few more months Enough to look at one last time at the photographs we had taken together. Enough to smile when remembering our conversations. And enough to understand something important. Love has no expiration date. He doesn't understand about wrinkles. She doesn't understand age. Sometimes it hits when you're twenty. Sometimes when you're forty. And sometimes it hits seventy, when you've stopped waiting for it. And maybe that's why it becomes even more beautiful.