I don't know when it started, but one day, after Isabell Huricane, i felt a sense of devastation as i walked over the cadavers of trees on Byrd Park fallen by the storm. As we drove through a maze of streets blocked by fallen trees, everywhere,
on roofs, on cars, on sidewalks, on the middle of the street, i had a picture in my mind of the aftermath of warlike scene, where you could not distinguish yet the wounded from the dead, and even those who had survived, us, walked like zombies, with the heart
in our hands, gasping at the dramatic view of destruction of our brothers and sisters.
The degree of pain i felt, was like as if i had lost a human loved one, and therefore, an interesting thought came to me, the possibililty of having been a tree on
a previous life.
I think i always loved trees, since my childhood. I have pictures hanging from a tree when i was 6 years old. My dad called me "little monkey", because i loved to climb them.
I remember certain trees: the Lemon Tree
at my grandmother's house in Eduardo Acevedo Street, where we used to celebrate our birthdays and family reunions. The Willows with their flexible limbs falling over the water along the shores of the River Tigre in Buenos Aires, as we rowed along it from the
Club Nautico Hacoaj, where we went every Sunday with my parents.
I rember the Pine Trees in Villa Gessell, the beautiful beach resort we used to go for vacations on the Atlantic Ocean, where my parents owned a cottåge 3 blocks from the beach.
This small village. at the time, did not have a paved access road, and therefore, not many people ventiured into it, since if it rained we could get stuck on the road for a day or two.
It was colonized by a Swiss entrepreneur who brought pines
from Switzerland, to control the sand dunes from moving due to the winds. The smell of pines was everywhere, and the carpet of pine needles on the sandy soil was soft and inviting during our daily walks.
I remember the Eucaliptus Tree, because of the
intoxicating smell. There was something else about them that i can't remember, but that made it a magic tree, or may be i associated them with outings into the outskirts of Buenos Aires, on some Sundays when we drove with my family to discover new places.
I remember El Gomero (Gum Tree), a small version of which we had in the very narrow balcony on the 7th floor of the appartment we lived with Carlos and Julian on the corner of French & Austria streets. I think it was the only thing alive on that balcony,
the excuse to have a glass sliding door on our tiny bedroom from where we could see the sky and a piece of the worl in a rectangular shape.
Now i grow trees in my backyard and i am happy giving them life, caring for them, nurturing them and listening
to them speak to me through their mouths, or leaves or through the resonance of their spirit.
I am forever grateful to them, as we have spent a lifetime together growing up, supporting each other and playing the gåme of becoming who we already