EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALJanuary 30, 1999
Huerta Santa Maria
Near Galaroza
An Olive Branch
Baby almond trees line the scrubby driveway. They are twig-like in
their infancy. Javier is busy this week with young trees, planting in the garden, raking
and hoeing, and the usual shepherding.
Today, Javier pays a typical visit to us upstairs but it is not to
exchange gas bottles or news but rather to invite Carol to plant a tree. This at first
seems strange but we think that perhaps we have told Javier that Carol enjoys gardening.
Quietly and in French, he explains to Rich that he wants to remember Carolafter she
returns to Canada and has chosen an olive tree to remember her by.
We head outside together to find there is a hole in the ground, very
near to the house. Javier has a young, flexible olive tree; Aceitunas. Javier hands
my mother the hoe. He inserts the little tree and my mother starts to push dirt. She is
pushing the dirt with happy care, pushing the dirt into the hole. She and Javier settle
the tree into the ground, pushing the topsoil with their shoes.
In a minute she is standing before the tree with admiring eyes. It will
take two years before the tree will bear fruit. With friends looking after it, this tree
will live for over 200 years. In a minute she is looking for her glasses. A minute ago
they were hanging on her collar.
Carol is distressed. She is convinced she has planted her glasses with
the olive tree. She has buried them down with the roots. Bob and Rich and I are standing
beside the tree shaking our heads. This can’t be true; "No, no, no. no."
Javier pipes up, "Si!" He leans towards the tree and picks my mother’s
glasses from the dirtpile. The half-buried glasses are bent and dusty. Javier is brushing
the glasses on his shirt. My mother is relieved and thankful. Mostly she is happy to have
shared in the planting.
After returning the glasses, Javier tells us that the almond
trees that now line his driveway were planted to remind him of Angela, Wilfred and Edwin.
He explains that he has chosen a new tree for each of us, which he hopes we will plant
before we leave.
It is only after we return to our upstairs rooms that we realize that
we are not the only ones who have enjoyed our stay with Javier. We have transcended the
guest book and our memories have taken their place in the roots of Santa Maria.
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