"How strange, Lucio, I thought I already told you about my tree ... is a story a bit simple, but I'm sure you'll forgive me if you like ... Is not it? Well, it all started a few years old ... not so many, love, not so many, what do I know, about twelve or thirteen, while still living in the old country house, with my parents and my brother, who was about five or six years ... I was ten, and then was a very lonely girl: I am not related to other kids my age, my brother was too young to play with him, and my parents, well, they were always busy living, fighting for daily bread, so I had no other choice than get to play with myself ... but do not make that face, it was not as boring as it sounds! In a field behind the house, was planted a large tree that never bore fruit. We did not know what kind it was, which did not bother me. For me, this giant was the best place for games that could have. It was an exciting place where I could feel more bird than human. To make myself out, I think that spending more time on their branches with the feet on the ground. I remember climbing lived a thousand imaginary adventures in your glass: formidable pirate wars, where heavy industries were the stern, bow, cabins and masts, and their leaves were countless candles that are inflated with the wind, insects, hunted around type, which it then compete in races where the loser, he paid with his life's defeat was an observation tower where I could see the enemy armies trying to destroy our strong-my old house of mud and palm-and sometimes simply slept among the leaves , rocked by the gentle evening breeze ... and did many things, Lucio, but I will not bore you all ... contándotelas colossus that became my main playmate, one who never bothered or tired, and claimed me for anything I did. I am convinced that the best toy a child has is his imagination, as this can turn anything into what you want ... at least so do poor children have no video games or cell cars, or dolls so vivid that they only need to talk and think for themselves ... do not forget that coming and going of black ants, which made a ground eternal journey to the branches, where they tore the parasites ate fresh leaves, and took them trapped in their strong jaws, tree down. He would spend countless hours watching his systematic work ... In short, I think I understand what I mean ...
One day, when least expected, from a middle branch began to grow a small green ball: it was the first fruit was the tree, or at least the first I knew him. You can imagine how excited I got. Every day he looked happy, impressed with how quickly it grew. When he began to change color, I nearly bust ecstasy. I ran to tell my parents the wonderful event and then, somewhat disappointed and not understanding how little interest they had shown, return to the tree to fruit that look as real as it was previously known. Now I understand that is hard to work the land, and farmers are poor are hardened souls with the sacrifices they face daily. But thirteen years ago, could not disclose the reason for his cold apathy towards the fruit of my tree ...
For the face you put, you do not seem to understand my affinity for fruit. Never mind, sweetie, you noble aspects that prevent you become an insensitive ... but why not continue walking while tell you my story finished? Well, I was saying: when the fruit was large and ruddy, perspiring health and life, my father came cochinera just build a site where it was planted my tree. To make a concrete floor, I needed to uproot. Can you imagine my distress? One afternoon, without warning, he hired a group of boys who, armed with axes and machetes, began to swing their blows against the tree trunk. What could I do? Nothing, Lucio, I could not do anything ... my children and oppose efforts that disaster was a source of laughter among the murderers ... when I tried to hug the trunk, in a last desperate attempt to prevent further cutting, my father pushed me apart, saying that the tree only served to hinder, not even bore fruit, and I was screaming yes, yes bore fruit, to look the environmental industry, there is, Dad, the yellow fruit ... but nothing helped. In the end, the big tree eventually gave in, like me, and he hit the ground. The same guys who had overthrown, were ordered to smash it to end of hacks, chipping with cruelty, decreasing to make fuel for fires. The rest of the trunk, who stood rooted to the ground, knocks him out peak ... maybe you can not imagine how much I cried for the loss of my friend. The next day, with a heart full of bitterness, I went to the place where it remained until just a few hours ago, good tree upright, and there on the ground, an orphan, lost among so many ruins and tatters, was the yellow fruit, detached leaves wrapped with ... I took in my hands, and that was enough to end up breaking my heart. The cry rose up to become a sea grew uncontrollable. My mother, who watched this touching scene from a corner came over and told me that if he loved that tree, why not planted the fruit, so the tree could live again ... I asked: Do you think, Mom?, but she had me back and, with his usual walk weary, he left to take care of their chores. Excited with a new enthusiasm in the soul, ran to open a little hole in the ground to bury the priceless treasure that was in my hands ... after a while, revived my friend, and took care of him during his first months, feeling very happy to see it grow a little more each day. But, as my parents decided move to seek better opportunities, I had to leave to their fate ... however, I fear for him, I'm sure he'll be fine ...".
One day, when least expected, from a middle branch began to grow a small green ball: it was the first fruit was the tree, or at least the first I knew him. You can imagine how excited I got. Every day he looked happy, impressed with how quickly it grew. When he began to change color, I nearly bust ecstasy. I ran to tell my parents the wonderful event and then, somewhat disappointed and not understanding how little interest they had shown, return to the tree to fruit that look as real as it was previously known. Now I understand that is hard to work the land, and farmers are poor are hardened souls with the sacrifices they face daily. But thirteen years ago, could not disclose the reason for his cold apathy towards the fruit of my tree ...
For the face you put, you do not seem to understand my affinity for fruit. Never mind, sweetie, you noble aspects that prevent you become an insensitive ... but why not continue walking while tell you my story finished? Well, I was saying: when the fruit was large and ruddy, perspiring health and life, my father came cochinera just build a site where it was planted my tree. To make a concrete floor, I needed to uproot. Can you imagine my distress? One afternoon, without warning, he hired a group of boys who, armed with axes and machetes, began to swing their blows against the tree trunk. What could I do? Nothing, Lucio, I could not do anything ... my children and oppose efforts that disaster was a source of laughter among the murderers ... when I tried to hug the trunk, in a last desperate attempt to prevent further cutting, my father pushed me apart, saying that the tree only served to hinder, not even bore fruit, and I was screaming yes, yes bore fruit, to look the environmental industry, there is, Dad, the yellow fruit ... but nothing helped. In the end, the big tree eventually gave in, like me, and he hit the ground. The same guys who had overthrown, were ordered to smash it to end of hacks, chipping with cruelty, decreasing to make fuel for fires. The rest of the trunk, who stood rooted to the ground, knocks him out peak ... maybe you can not imagine how much I cried for the loss of my friend. The next day, with a heart full of bitterness, I went to the place where it remained until just a few hours ago, good tree upright, and there on the ground, an orphan, lost among so many ruins and tatters, was the yellow fruit, detached leaves wrapped with ... I took in my hands, and that was enough to end up breaking my heart. The cry rose up to become a sea grew uncontrollable. My mother, who watched this touching scene from a corner came over and told me that if he loved that tree, why not planted the fruit, so the tree could live again ... I asked: Do you think, Mom?, but she had me back and, with his usual walk weary, he left to take care of their chores. Excited with a new enthusiasm in the soul, ran to open a little hole in the ground to bury the priceless treasure that was in my hands ... after a while, revived my friend, and took care of him during his first months, feeling very happy to see it grow a little more each day. But, as my parents decided move to seek better opportunities, I had to leave to their fate ... however, I fear for him, I'm sure he'll be fine ...".
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