The weekend niece. from the book, Searching for treasures
Popayán, Cauca, Colombia
Considering that they could be on some errand for that afternoon, Dora obliged without giving it a thought. However, Ines stopped precisely halfway across the bridge, at its highest point and over the waters that flowed rapidly below them. She leaned lightly on the yellow guardrail and directed her gaze at the river.
The view was impressive, and they had enjoyed it on different occasions before. At the moment, a quiet, peaceful ambiance prevailed; it was scarcely interrupted by the occasional vehicles on their way across.
Through the passage of millions of years, the river had slowly carved a deep canyon: its riverbed lay way down below at the bottom of its steep slopes, profusely covered with vegetation. The bridge’s height offered an incomparable view of the canyon ant the Fonce River, on its long path to the sea. In the background, a smaller bridge was, but barely, revealed as it crossed the river in front of them. It was a steel bridge, as well, its rust-tinted structure, displaying different hues of brownish-red tones.
The fast, running waters of the juvenile Fonce River disappeared after they passed below that bridge. The vegetation’s intense shades of green, the blue waters of the river, the reddish bridge in the background, and the limitless skies overhead in their variations of color, all these elements coordinated together to compose a most extraordinary landscape to admire.
Ines was hushed for a long while. Motionless, she contemplated the landscape, while staring absent-mindedly at the horizon. But, when she turned her head in Dora’s direction, her eyes were slightly misted. A bit concerned, Dora asked if all was well. In a faint voice, Ines did her best to comfort her. Then, with a smile, which showed traces of sadness, in her still misted eyes, she began to speak in a nostalgic tone of voice:
“My child… it’s the sky. It brings me so many memories of many years ago. You see, it resembles the skies of my youth when I still lived in the Cauca, back in Popayan with your grandfather, may he rest in peace. Back then we used to live on a farm. It was our farm, and we had all of our lives and our dreams ahead of us still. Those were the happy days that I spent with your grandfather.”
“But, why does the sky bring back memories of that farm, grandmother? Were the skies at the Cauca like today’s?”
“Oh, yes! They were so lovely,” she answered smiling, “especially during the sunrise. But I don’t like this sky, for it reminds of poor Diego’s, Sky of misfortunes.”
“What do you mean, grandmother?”, Dora asked, disconcerted and without understanding what her grandmother was talking about.
Versión en español Searching for treasures Purchase the book