En
I am from the time that mothers took their daughters to the market each Saturday morning in order to do some shopping.
My mother and I were crazy about flowers, and the Arum flowers were an economic flower that everyone looked for and that when cut it lasted for a long time on the water. Therefore we used to buy many Arums, several times, almost every Saturday. Once I even thought that pots in the living room would become tired of them but that never happened! The white Arums represented festivity times and most importantly happiness.
We called them “the stream fairies”, because on the north of the Island they dotted the hills and painted the margins of the streams, places where I used to play when I was little and that still nowadays kindly live on my memory.
My love with the Arum flowers blossomed early… But then they soon departed with my mother and therefore with a bit of my youth since I thought they couldn’t have anything else to offer me.
Eventually I grew up and I started to travel around the world and I found the Arum flowers in many places. In Hawaii I found yellow and orange Arums, in South Africa I also found red ones, in Japan I discovered them in black and purple and in Australia in pink and purple shades. It was then that I rediscovered their beauty and how perfect they were.
Once I returned to the Island I decided to visit the market in order to buy some Arums as I used to do. Perhaps I should have never let them go…I should have always kept them in my heart, the place where now I am certain they will never leave.
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Pt
Eu ainda sou do tempo em que as mães levavam as filhas ao mercado sábado de manha para fazer as compras da semana. Eu e a minha mãe éramos loucas por flores, e os jarros eram uma flor de todos, económica, e sendo uma flor de corte, duravam bastante tempo na água. Comprávamos então jarros. Muitas vezes jarros, quase sempre jarros. Eu pensava que um dia as jarras da sala se cansariam deles. Mas isso nunca aconteceu!
Os jarros brancos chegavam e faziam a festa, representavam felicidade. Chamávamos-lhes ” as fadas da ribeira”, porque no norte da ilha salpicavam as serras e pintavam as margens das ribeiras, marcando muitas das brincadeiras da minha infância.
Os jarros conquistaram me cedo… Mas depois foram embora, como a pedir desculpa, deixei os partir com a minha mãe, não tinham mais nada para me dar, partiram com um pedaço da minha adolescência.
Cresci, comecei a viajar, e encontrei os em todos os cantos do mundo. No Hawai, amarelos e laranjas, na África do Sul; vermelhos, no Japão; roxos quase negros, na Austrália; lilases e rosa. Recordei então como eram bonitos e perfeitos.
De regresso à ilha senti vontade de voltar ao mercado e comprar jarros como antigamente. Se calhar nunca os deveria ter deixado partir…
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