A Cup of Coffee

My trees

I wonder what will become of me without the view of my trees. I inspect them carefully every day, and they give me back some of my best ideas -- or the worst of them, some might say. There is a tall male papaya, very bald (here we say that papaya trees are male and female), very venerable and respectful looking. There are also flashy ipes (I don't think there is such a tree in the Northern hemisphere). In summer, they get covered with golden flowers and it is beautiful to look at them. When the wind blows, they sound like giggly little girls. There are many others, short and tall, that I wouldn't know how to call. And their branches hide singing birds of all kinds, little monkeys, squirrels, agoutis.

I look at them and I think of the things I have to do, the ones I will and the ones I should. I think of the things that I have to say, the ones I should and the ones I will anyway. I think of the things I would have to write, the ones I will and the ones I might. I think I will. I think I should. I think I might. I may be wrong and I may be right. How many things can go through one's head in a wink? I think. I think. I think.

I am just a middle aged, hardworking, mother of three, how much creativity could I have left in me? Not much, I fear, especially without my trees. I can write facts, dates, and names, but not built a world of my own, with castles made of real bricks and stones. Still I enjoy playing with foreign words and sounds, irresponsably. Portuguese is the language I live by. English is the language I dream, the language of my unconscious mind (I often dream in English, how weirder can you get?).

I wonder what will become of me without the view of my trees. I will have the view of other windows, and will probably take glimpses on the people who live behind them. Will they present me with new ideas, new stories to tell? Oh well, soon enough we will all know.

posted by Livia de Almeida @ 9:36 PM