Adelina, Aida y Manuel

26 de Mayo 2017

I am Doña Niña’s granddaughter. She taught me about herbs and my Dad taught me how to grow food, as he taught Aida. Her belly would move really fast at the rhythm of her laugh whenever she’d send me to the garden to collect herbs for the cooking and I’d bring her common weed or else. “Mera, huele esto bien pa’que no se te olvide nena”. She would say while almost shoving the herbs inside my nose to smell them better so I wouldn’t forget. I needed to get the difference between ginger plant and grass or “limoncillo” duh. I’d spend hours on her garden trying to identify them all or bringing flowers back so she wouldn’t get mad I couldn’t grab the chicken or brought the wrong herb again.
My Papi, he would have a funny or curious story for everything. He’d tell me about the moon and its phases and what food liked which moon and he’d invent a gossip on how the plantain never liked to hang next to the pumpkin because it was too “pegajosa uy”. Thing is I never grew them together but of course there was another agricultural-scientific logic I learned later. Grandma and I would still like his gossip story better. Both our bellies would shake hard while laughing, he really knew how to make us laugh en la finca.
I found and formed myself around the “finca” and the plants and the animals and the soil and the flowers and the earth. This is me. There is nothing more transparent and real about me than all this. That is why today I was called to do a garden and a yard and my heart felt so happy I wasn’t cleaning a house for once. “This is my shit” I told to myself. I took my shoes off; I touched the ground and started singing “Dos gardenias para ti… con ellas quiero decir…..” while fixing some pots and digging some holes.
“Dos Gardenias”, that’s one of my Dad’s favorite’s songs. My Grandma loved it too.
I almost finished, then texted my Dad some pictures (Of course I need his approval or pride on my work!) and asked him what he was doing hoping he’d be doing some gardening too.
Like hoping and pretending than by just touching the ground both at the same time, we would feel much closer and connected as our old days together at the “finca”.
Like hoping distance would turn into a surreal thing between him and me….”Oh Papi estoy muerta (Oh Dad I’m so tired).If I could only clap and have you closer”
Like the same way “cucubanos” connect me with my Grandma.
Like two gardenias, “ponles toda tu atención, que serán tu corazón y el mío”.
I really miss these two.
#DiasporaStories

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