Yesterday was Sunday—a day I dedicated to household chores and, above all, to remembering. I’ve always said there’s no day that fills me with more nostalgia than that one. While drafting an article for my blog, I recalled a special day, another Sunday, just over a year ago, one worth sharing and remembering.
Once upon a Sunday—exactly a year ago—time decided to pause among the royal palms of Casino Campestre. We gathered there, a few word-crazy souls who still believe poetry can be a kite soaring on the evening breeze. It was Children’s Day, and the soul of Camagüey smelled of freshly cut sunflowers.
I wore white, like a page waiting for a thousand stories, with a hat that held summer in its yellow petals. My companions arrived with rhymes hidden in their pockets, metaphors gleaming like gold coins under the sun. Some had faces painted with butterflies and smiling dragons—as if we’d drunk from the ink of fairy tales.
The park became a chorus, and a few children approached us beneath the ancient ceiba tree. Verses tumbled from our hands; some told lively stories like seeds, and the children—little curious birds—gathered them with laughter.
Oh, the music of that day! The rustle of leaves blending with the eager "What happens next?" of the little ones. One child took my hand to tell me his own story—about a dog that spoke in décimas—and I knew then we’d achieved the impossible: planting a forest of fantasy in the heart of the city.
I’d prepared simple gifts for the most enthusiastic, and as the event ended, I saw in the children’s eyes that special spark only well-told stories can ignite. And we, the adults who’d been children again for a few hours, took away something more valuable than applause: the certainty that we’d woven, with threads of ink and tenderness, a memory that would never fade.
Now, whenever I pass by Casino Campestre, I swear I hear the echo of that Sunday: the palms whispering the verses we planted, the sunflowers on my hat blooming once more in memory. Because gifting childhood—even for just an afternoon—is the purest form of magic there is.
🌻
✨ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! ✨
𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕—𝑰’𝒎 𝒂 𝑪𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐’𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒓.
𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 100% 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏-𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 (𝒏𝒐 𝑨𝑰).
𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒊.
𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕? 𝑼𝒑𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚! 💛