The afternoon was cool, much cooler than I could have imagined. My fast pace on the roads was getting faster and faster. I was worried that night would fall and I would still be on my way home. It was about a two-hour walking to town and then about 6 hours back to home.
My mother used to send me into town, shopping. On some days my mother would notice that some kind of food was missing from the pantry. I would go to town with a lot of encouragement. I would leave at 7 o'clock in the morning through the forest to fulfill her shopping request.
In my home there were only three of us, my mother was a tireless woman, a fighter and tenacious. I learned that when my father died. His was a rather stupid death. He was a countryman, accustomed to the maneuvers of strength and skill in his daily work. There is always a day when strength and skill are not necessarily good weapons against chance.
On an ordinary workday, my father left home to work in our field. It is not very far away, about a 30-minute walk through the fields of other friends and neighbors of ours. He was picking the coffee of the new harvest, I think he had an urge to urinate and went to hide in the thicket of the coffee trees, he unzipped his zipper and began his task of emptying his bladder. Without realizing it, he had disturbed a poisonous snake that was coiled in the trunk of the coffee tree.
The venomous creature found no other place to bite but on my father's exposed limb.
My father, seeing what happened, was so frightened that he suffered a fulminant heart attack. That was what the town doctor said. My mother found him there, at lunchtime. Lying among the coffee trees and still holding his limb.
Since then, she assumed the responsibility of the household. So she goes to the fields, sows, harvests, sells, and consumes the products that she so efficiently prospers.
Of my two younger brothers, I have no criticisms, but they are minors, I cannot afford to leave the responsibility to them to go out to town shopping. Especially because I love to go shopping in town. As the older brother, I choose to always go shopping. In the hope of returning early and, that the darkness does not take me in the middle of the road.
Alfredo is the youngest, he is 10 years old and he and my mother go with him to pick up the produce from the fields. Felipe is older, he is 14 years old and he is in charge of watching the animals, looking after their safety, and collecting the products that they give us every day. Like eggs, milk, and meat.
I am now 20 years old, I take care of all the details that in my father's absence may arise at home. Repairs, installations, construction, and shopping. I have lived all my life here at my parents' house with my siblings. I never miss the outings to town, because somehow I also nourish myself with the comic books I buy.. I share them with my siblings but always after I have read them first. I enjoy reading ghost stories, tales of unimaginable gods, fairies of the world, and much more fantasy than my brothers share with me.
The village is not far, I must go through the forest, a part with fruit trees, and oranges, to be more precise. It is the orchard of a great friend of the family. He decided to continue the family business, that is, the planting and harvesting of oranges, from his ancestors to this generation. Without much displeasure, I pass through them, following the path I have traveled countless times.
After making the purchases I return along the same path and then make a few small changes halfway through the route.
The detail is that there is a small escape through the path that I usually do. I take a detour to pass a refreshing stream. In it, I bask before continuing on my way back home. I get lost in the hours, in my mind, and without realizing it, my imagination takes me to places that only my mind recreates.
This creek has a peculiar sound, of gentle currents of water falling over stones. Whispers in the silence of the afternoon. Song of birds, and sounds of branches, that chase my ideas and channel them to make realities in my mind. The trees settled on the banks of the river stream, giving the much-desired effect of shadows, with multiple forms that let any imagination wander. The sun's rays penetrate the thicket of the leafy trees and the flashes of thousands of colors filter through until they reach the soft afternoon mist.
There is a little more humidity in the air and a light mist from the increased flow of the stream. I wouldn't trade these shopping days in town for anything.
On this particular day, I prefer to continue to enjoy my thoughts. After walking over the rocks on the shore I lean back on my favorite one. It is a chair-like rock carved out of solid rock, light brown in color, like thick honey. I let my bare feet touch the water that barely touches my rock in its serpentine path. I can see everything in the river, in a kind of cloud that runs through the place, clearing and misting.
Suddenly I see in the distance, not far away of my gaze, a shape as if levitating. This figure emerges from the water. A body emerges that through the afternoon mist has not noticed my presence. I don't move, I stay there, watching how little by little that figure appears. She is covered with soft fabrics of delicate weaves that fly through the air around her and then fall to wrap around her skin. With smooth movements, she approaches the rocks on the other across the river
looks at me, is paralyzed by my gaze but continues to stand there on her rock. She makes no movement to retreat.
As... if knew me...
As... if knew that I frequent this very place on some days.
Undaunted continues there, sitting on the rock and I on mine. Her clothes follow the air, flying in the gentle breeze, seeming to have a life of their own, enveloping her and returning to their place.
The gentle breeze intoxicates me too, and almost makes me lose consciousness. I take a deep breath and see her approaching me.
The water is very shallow, can cross the creek from the other side without her whole body being submerged in the water. I can't move, perhaps because of the surprise of seeing another person there in my favorite spot. I stand transfixed on the rock, watching her approach me, slowly. I can't move, I just breathe deeply and slowly. Each time I can observe her better and better.
The mist is dissipating, the body is becoming more and more drawn. What were once soft tulle fabrics are now more visible. She is wearing a wide blouse, faintly colored, combined with a pair of trousers made of fabric bulging from her waist. It was she, Francis, one of my neighbors, who had arrived before me and was cooling her body in the cool waters of the river.
Es a woman with a white complexion,The large eyes, let you notice the dark color in her pupils. An innocent air comes out of her pale complexion. The flesh-red lips contrast with the pale tone of her skin. She finishes that figure by getting out of the water showing all her slender body.
My mind had plotted an ironic move for me. With my volatile thoughts, I thought something out of the ordinary. Now I could see that it had all been like a fairy tale that my mind had preformed of her, looking at that figure emerging from the waters, on that afternoon covered in soft mist and, of this tendency of mine to be an inveterate dreamer.
I greeted her, chatted for a few minutes, said goodbye, and continued on my way home, alone, as usual. With my purchases from town at hand, and before the night completely occupied my sight.
