1998
In the early mornings just as the sun rises above the horizon I distinguish your footsteps from grandmaās through its slower and heavier pace. You rummage in the garden outside of my roomās window, and look after the plants: the loofah vines, the grape vines, the fig tree, the pomegranate tree, the goji-berry tree. Grandmaās and your kept-down voices become Ā of golden streams of murmur weaving a safety net thatās so gentle yet so strong it puts me right back into a even more peaceful slumber, dreaming of another day where the sun shines so brightly that it shines right into my most distanced day dreams.
The proudest you look on pictures is when you are posing with your plants, both hands on your waist, your face slightly turned to one side, a little tilted, a big smile hugged by rosy cheeks, the face of a young boy beaming with fulfilment of the gardener who nurtures and witnesses seedlings grow. With enthusiasm you draw words onto paper and cut them out into card-sized squares to introduce them to a new mind. With these cards I learn that words are not just symbols, scribblings of strokes and curved lines and dots put together to mean something else: They are individuals, each one of them has a its own personality. The character of the word āpersonāļ¼äŗŗļ¼is free-spirited and likes to make large strides or leaps, striving to elevate, that is why it has two long legs. The word āgoodā (儽ļ¼is content because its left and right part fit and complement each other perfectly, where as ābadā (å) is not wholesome and therefore incomplete. āHouseā (ęæ) has a roof to shield and protect, and is open and welcome. āPaintingā (ē»ļ¼likes to laugh about its framed acre of field. āDumplingā ļ¼é„ŗåļ¼looks like it wants to be chewed and it makes the noise one makes with oneās mouth when eating dumplings, which always makes me think they taste better than they actually are. āWaterā (ę°“ļ¼is delicate, graceful, and strong, and āIā (ę) is always too complicated to be fully comprehended or remembered.
When words are put together, we like to observe and bear witness to the relationships that develop between them, and the personalities they bring out of each other. When you recount the story of Snow White it is not because of the story that I want to listen to it over and over again but of the fact that those words mixed with your voice are like water pearls dripping on the rougher side of a piece of leather, rolling down its surface, or like biting into a zesty apple and realising that itās actually soft, sweet, and smooth, or like opening Ā ancient dust-covered leather-bound tome full of secrets. Words flow into each other becoming little brooks of delicate mysteries that tease my appetite until I gather so many of them they turn into wild-flowing rivers tearing me with them into a faraway dream.
When it gets warmer outside, you take me with you on those evening walks after dinner and the air smells like sweet relaxation. We walk along side the gentle breezes that bring along your acquaintances with them for a good chat, sometimes we leave some distances behind together. On one of those walks I decided that Mondays are red and friendly, Tuesdays are dark blue, and Fridays are very light blue with speckles of gold because itās lively. Wednesday likes to decide between being yellow or orange, but mostly chooses a shade in-between, and Thursday is powerful, hardworking, and green. The weekend is always iridescent.
You watched me crawl, then walk. You watched me find my way back home from school for the first time from the other side of the street and I accused you of cheating because we agreed I would do it on my own, and you make grandma the culprit and mastermind behind it all. We bathe in the afternoon sun to strengthen our bones and bring home that sweet little chick we find on the market. You encourage me to enter the story competition of the childrenās magazine I am subscribed to, and mischievously add your own flavours to it, and I win two coloured handkerchieves and you win a smirk on your face, and I keep both of them until today. Who would know that a decade later, I would submit something on my own, and people actually like what they read.
It is a mysterious place, this world, full of inexplicable thing such as your love for grapes, how two trees can look so different but perfect together, or the soothing effect of the right word put into the right order. And youāre actually a magic man.
