The sweet seed flibbook

By: Harnel Peña
UNAD university.

It was the winter of '85. I remember the air was cold and moving like a shadow
along the trails of that small remote town, colliding with the fruits of the orange
trees near the 10th Street gate, the roofs, platforms, meadows, parks and all what
had a body around me. From my spacious house, without a roof, starless, dark,
to the bright and full of sun, full of details and green meadows, what could be
called with the thoughts of a cold and different month, persists, sad, melancholic
and meaningless , surrounding with his thick coldness my small and fragile body
unknown to me at that time. My mother, a wise, tired, complaining woman,
watched by my little eyes and listened to by my little ears, says with the sweetness
of someone who does not want to chase away the dream of a little weepy "Don't
go catching a cold " as he covered and rubbed my little button-sized nose from
top to bottom and bottom to top with his right thumb, pressing me against her left
chest, emitting from her hard and soft skin a milk smell, and from her body, a hot
vapor equal or better than a bonfire.
I remember her eyes, I remember her brightness, the scent of her fingers on my
nose, the light that her noble heart emanated, enough to light the light bulbs in
the dark of my life.

I grew up different.

My process was slow, instead of stretching me, it seemed to shrink me, instead
of lifting me, it was pulling me down, instead of my arms, my hands, my fingers
reaching out and forming branches with their different ramifications following the
natural process of growth upwards, my process was carried out in the opposite
way; My feet grew with his toes greatly, digging deep, creating connections like
an almost endless neural network, connecting with everything that had life within
the surface of the earth, moving away from the outside every day.
On the other hand, and unfortunately for me, the opposite happened with the other
plants; their trunks had a thick, lively and vigorous stem, their broad bark and a
considerable layer, their ramifications had multiple arms that in turn emitted small
branches with their incalculable leaves, forming the appearance of a leafy tree
with thick green hair. .

It was evident that I was going at a crazy, different and uncoordinated rhythm,
where I felt constantly disadvantaged - while I was on foot, they seemed to ride
a skate or bicycle - fast and very lucky. My mother, a woman with an
affectionate and tender gaze, when she saw the despair that fitted into my mind,
whispered in my ear - do not despair, my little one, the wind always arrives at its
moment and in its time - you will fly and grow ... And my eyes shone brightly like
the spring sun, they sparked in different directions, I looked big and powerful.
Time passed and the days became extinct with their nights, the sky went from
being illuminated by the moon to being illuminated by the sunlight, the mornings
became afternoons and the afternoons in darkness, forming in me a thin trunk
and without the contexture of a thick tree.

A night came when the moonlight did not appear, nor the starlight, when the breath
of the air lifted the arms of the largest and thickest trees, unloading its weight
against the roofs of the church, against the windows of the houses , where he
raised not only the sound of the bells and crying in the town, but also the panic in
the animals, in the forest, where roofs, ranches, houses, stables, gardens and
trees were seen flying ..., among them, my mother.

I woke up in a deep silence, when I opened my eyes after that storm, I did not
know what was around me; everything was new to me, nothing was like what
was remembered, there was nothing ... I was alone, with no one. Those mighty
thick-stemmed trees weren't there, you could hardly see where they were the
night before, there was only earth moving and holes everywhere. Frightened,
alone, stupefied, I began to scream, and to cry.
Suddenly and without knowing where and why, I heard a voice -that gaveseveral
voices that reached my ears, communicated but could not be seen, my
eyes and ears did not locate the sounds, but they continued, saying beautiful
things , encouraging (- "Where is she, that's fine; you're not alone, we're with
you-); but where did the voices come from? I was alone, there was nothing
around, there was no presence of life around me! Where did the voices come
from? And the answer was not long. The few leaves I had were missing, my skin
was free and with nothing to cover it. Look at my thin trunk, small and without
much to offer, but how was it? Was that possible? My friends, the tall and thick
ones were not there, the storm had ripped them away, and instead I, the weak
and frail, was there, without my mother, bald, without leaves, but there I was.
What? And the voices? Where did they come from?

I looked up, to the sides, back and, finally, down, my feet ... I looked at them for
an arduous time, I followed every line that was part of me. For the first time I felt
having as many feet as tentacles, watered and hidden by the earth and by dust,
long and extensive that I could not see the end of them, they were so long that
they found other trees ... Other bushes, other plants, animals of different species.
I closed my eyes, in the center of my feet, in my roots, and through each channel
I was diluting until I reached the end of my stump, feeling first the throbbing of the
earth, dry places, wet places, puddles, lagoons, the croaking of the toads, the
singing of the frogs, the beating of the plants, the footsteps of the horses, of the
pigs, chickens, birds, worms, ants, the jump of the crickets and other small
insects.
From another of my extensions I felt the graves, the remains of other beings, those
who left, who took the path that we will take later. Another part of me reached the
roots that supported me, and from other directions other roots held me tightly....
That being united to me, connected us through a wide communication network
that extended throughout the forest, this A large neural sphere communicates with
me and these same ones prevented that hurricane from ending my existence. I
understood at that moment that my greatness was not on the outside, but inside
me, what made me great and leafy was not a beautiful green hair or a strong and
thick trunk, but the union that forms the roots so that we remain united before the
circumstances...

The end.

Bibliographic references.
Images taken from: https://www.google.com.co/imghp?hl=es-419&tab=wi&ogbl