Back to Tatay’s Garden

If there’s one thing I love doing on nice days, it is reading. Today, I decided to go to the park.

I sat on a bench across the river (past the road). It was serene.

The breeze gently hugged me as I immersed myself in beautiful literature. The wind flipped its pages one by one.

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I started where I left off: Hope, a poem from Lang Leav’s book, Memories.

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While reading the sentence:

“Your love for him is the same– it runs wild and free.”

It made me remember my childhood spent reading beneath the trees in tatay’s (grandfather) garden. I know this doesn’t have any correlation with what the poem is trying to say, but those summers when I was a little girl were indeed wild and free.

Currently listening to: Wild Ones by Bahari

I would wear my flower crown and pretend that my grandfather is the king, and I am his little princess. In his garden, I could be what I wanted to be.

I danced with the leaves and sang with the birds.

I would climb every tree tatay planted. Up there, I saw endless adventures. And endless adventures we did have.

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Sister and Cousin: Tatay’s Garden 2014

I intended to finish reading Hope today, but I wasn’t able to. Instead, I went back to tatay’s garden.

Until the next blog post,

Deanne Ella

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