"...And my soul danced beneath the bathing sun, my feet dug into the warmth and moist homeland... my nose rejoiced in the most delightful of smells of a recently plowed field.."
It was a hot and humid day. The heat waves could be admired and appreciated by the distortion of images it created. The sun was fierce, yet so delighting to sense the absorption of life itself become one in their bodies.
The cows had retreated towards the shades of the tiguilote trees. There they could lay, swinging their tails as they shooed the flies off their face. You could even appreciate the nerves of relaxation as the cows' skin trembled as if a mini earthquake took place in an attempt to evade the flies and keep them off their landing gears.
Yet, as peaceful and un-eventful as a hot-lazy summer day seemed, across the fields ran the 5 ninos. The small wavy figures danced across the heat of the sun, racing top speed almost sprinting to catch safety from the scorching sun. Their bare feet were accustomed to the hot and humid dusty-rocky trails. One by one they crashed underneath the shade, dramatically collapsing and wiping their sweaty foreheads leaving the dusty-smeared fingerprints as they giggled away all at once almost to the point of exhaustion.
Their giggles and laughs were so mischievous, you could sense right away they were up to no good. The plotting began, the grins on their faces stretched and their eyes glimmered away with emotion. Their glittery eyes reflected the joyful adventurer's desire to broaden their imagination of more excitement and memories of glorious glee. so they planned...
In that very moment , off into the distance you could hear the engine roar with might. The dark figure moved horizontally back and forth, making careful turns. To the kids bewilderment their hero was behind the wheel, their Papa Chico steered the tractor with such strength and yet with delicacy. His straw hat looked damped from the sweat, the old man looked dehydrated, yet he had a mission: to finish plowing the land before the sun took refuge into the world of the unknown...a world of the un-inviting mystery and suspense.
As the tractor kept getting lowder, it was was evident it was getting closer..the children could see and admire how the blades were turning, plowing the land with high intensity, a new gadget capturing the amazement of the five minos.
They were fascinated...
The smell of the fresh dirt was so aromatic. It was powerful...it was as if the land knew that it needed to be fully impregnated into the memory of these nińos..it seemed as if the Land was predicting a future desire to want to bring back these nińos from their future, to become part of that memory of that frozen time...
They sat, they smelled, inhaling the goodness of their beloved land...
As the tractor plowed, so did the birds rejoice, hovering and flying low they stroke the soft dirt feasting with delight...picking at the fresh plowed land for any sign of food. They flew in and out, and yet as loud as the tractor was, they seemed mesmerized by their hunger and need to replenish their energy...the engine roared with great might one last time until it finally came to a complete stop. Almost immediately, the children signaled with enthusiasm and high energy, off they dashed into the fresh plowed land, feeling as their feet dug into the fresh moist dirt. dancing among the birds, swinging their arms freely, and carrying their joyous moments...they danced...moving their feet and jumping from the perfectly crafted rows...the dirt squeezed between their toes, it was as if their feet were dipping into the river bank and feeling the fresh water caress their toes with the current.
The vast land of freedom was open to their imagination. It was a glorious manifestation of peace, purity, joy and the glittery laughter of all nińos cheered as they embraced their papa Chico while receiving the feel of a hard worker's moist...sweat, it was all in unison and love.
As they took a brief brake to spend that quality moment with their Papa Chico, to see his face, see the sweat roll down the wrinkles of his face, it was like staring at a king of decades ago....the wisdom lines expressed in his face, the burnt skin reflected of a man's hard dedication to provide for his family. There they sat, feet up, arms up against their knees, and they listened to the sounds of the palpitating hearts...starting into the distance of a world of wonders as if eluding the current status into the thin air of magnificence and heavenly splendors, they daydreamed...they sipped water from a Cantaro [water jug], each taking turns and passing the jug around. It's irrelevant to mention, that although the kids were amazed by the presence of such magnificent "toy," they refrained from touching the tractor. It was silently acknowledged that they needed not be mischievous with artifacts that was beyond their comfort zone. So they respected that and had no interest in "steering" or cracking the tractor on.
Oh the smells of purity, there the five nińos played in their sanctuary to their heart's delight, to satisfy their hunger for adventures as they absorbed the memories in the making while going along. So there they played, in their backyard of love...they enjoyed every moment and every minute...creating the moments of miraculous purity
"...as the vapor of a hot humid day began to disintegrate into the thin air, the sun hid his face, the cows and critters evacuated to their retreat and dome, so were the memories stored into the soul of the five nińos, instilled in the depth of their innocence of a life filled with sacrifices of learning..."
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