A Minute Worth a Thousand Years

Lying on the hammock, I feel a breeze brushing my face. The cool air this evening is perfect. I can hear the sabias singing beautiful melodies; they fly around as if their world has no limits. The sound of the peaceful wind on the grass hypnotizes me. The landscape is worthy of a painting. The neighbor’s hilltop farm is covered with cornfields, all of it pulled together by the indescribable sunset. The sky is pink, with reddish shades, and the sun lies on the farm’s roof. The huge araucaria trees, in contrast with the sky, make me understand why Brazilian flora amazes the whole world. 

The hammock swings, and I am in heaven. My dog snores while he sleeps under me.  It’s a sweet snore, though; it does not bother me at all. I watch his belly going up and down while he breathes, he must be dreaming, dreaming with me. The wind brings the aroma of fresh lemons, from the loaded lemon tree nearby. I see the horses running in the fields, symbolizing the true meaning of freedom. Although I own them, they seem as wild as never before. I close my eyes and imagine myself riding one of them. Riding Paco, I can recognize him, the way he gallops. Shirtless, with no saddle, wearing a cowboy hat. There are no destinations for me. I just ride, with the wind blowing on my face. I can barely see the fence next to me, I go fast, careless. My hat falls off, and I don’t even mind, I keep going and going, I am unstoppable!

My sister runs out of the house and bomb-jumps into the pool. I open my eyes, water splashes everywhere, and my peace is interrupted. I don’t blame her, we have a pool for a reason. I feel good, though, renewed. It was a minute of peace, a minute of appreciation, a minute worth a thousand years.

                                                       Tommaso Centemero ‘14