From My
Balcony
The woman of the rocking chair
By Nacho Cadena - Owner of La Petite France
Last week on my daily walk
my work caused me to pass by one of the many Mexican
villages full of attraction and tradition. Cobblestone
streets, slightly cracked, high sidewalks, adobe
bards announcing the recent summer rain with shrubs
of grass growing on top of them. The large main doors,
the barred windows, the colored dust covers, the
wooden shutters. The noise of the hoofs of the mules
and donkeys provided with brilliant horseshoes carrying
the feed for the cows on their back which soon will
be transformed into milk for the pleasure and well-being
of the village¨s youngsters.
 A proper, full-fledged Mexican
village like any other. With its popsicle shop on
the corner with its classical flavors of tamarind,
hibiscus and lemon. The old fashioned shop which
equally sells cloth, stationary and groceries and
where nylon stockings, notebooks and potato chips
intermingle without any distress or reticence. On the
outside the old store pompously carries the name: "new
progress" on a faded but still clear sign.
A Mexican village like all
other villages, with a small retail table on the
sidewalk offering "jicama" with
chile, unripe mangos and watermelon slices for sale,
representing the trademark colors of Mexico, in addition
to yams from the hills, a clear indication that the
old man of the house left to cut firewood and on the
way home he collected some small yams. Further down
is the small table full of those candies that the school
kids will make disappear once they will get out of
school: caramel candy, "drunken" candy, candy made
of yams and guave, wafers, "garapiñados" and "palanquetas" and
beside the table is the girl with her blue and white
apron scaring off mosquitos and bees with her paper
wand.
I have many other things to
tell you about this common and ordinary Mexican village
but I rather have to tell you that the fairies are
loose there. It was almost 5 pm and on the sidewalk
I saw an elegant, quite antique rocking chair, a
bit impaired, the liana ragged...
in its prime it must have had a silver blue color,
today hardly any color is left. There was the rocking
chair all by itself or "poltrona", how it is called
in my home town, but the term rocking chair is more
widespread, with a small white canvas pouch hanging
down from one of its arms.
If you see a ball rolling, you know very well that
a child will appear behind it. If you see smoke coming
out of the chimney you know that the stove is turned
on and there is a good woman throwing tortillas onto
the special skillet called comal. If you smell a refreshing
fragrance, a dry fragrance like Chanel number 5, behind
it there will be an attractive, likeable, glamorous
and very good-looking lady.
If you see a lonely rocking
chair on the sidewalk you know well that soon a wise,
patient, thinking, thoughtful, calm and transcendent
man or woman will appear. People rocking in a "poltrona" without
concerns have these qualities.
I did not endure the temptation and I sat down on
the sidewalk to wait for the appearance of the person
that would occupy the lonely rocking-chair. I did not
lose sight of the closed door, the door of a Caribbean
green color hiding behind it the secret that was disturbing
me so much of who was the owner of the rocking chair.
I did not have much time, nevertheless I imaginarily
closed the curtain of my obligations and decided to
wait.
Suddenly the green door opened slowly, almost doing
it with emotion and there she appeared. She was beautiful,
tall, very slim, her hair neatly tied together, a discreet
mole next to her mouth, her elongated hands, her long,
erected neck, the color of her white skin, her dress
with small clear balls on a dark blue background. She
sat down on the rocking chair and developed a swift
rock which surely was accompanying her thoughts rhythmically.
Enduring it as much as I could I got up and I approached
her slowly. She had her vision at a 45 degree angle.
I came closer, walking in straight direction towards
her. She did not even change her countenance, as if
I would not exist, as if I would not make any noise,
as if I would be invisible.
The closer I got and the less she perceived my presence,
the more beautiful she appeared. I could see her face
at close range and her hands, too, grasping the arms
of the rocking chair. Her gaze was transparent, I would
say crystallized. Her breathing paused and silent.
Her immense presence filled that huge space found between
the sidewalk and the sky.
Finally I made up my mind
and I greeted her: "Hello" was
the only thing which occurred to me to say. Then showing
off my poor imagination I continued saying: "my name
is Nacho". It was then that her transparent gaze pinned
my big figure and gave me confidence to start a dialogue.
How happy this woman made me.
I realized that she was an ageless lady, even though
she sustains that she goes with the century. Maybe
her face gives testimony, one wrinkle over the other,
her beautiful hands speak of her wisdom, her white
color sprinkled with those freckles that you only acquire
through the traveled journey.
Anybody would say that she was an old woman, I sustain
that she was an incredible woman, I already told you
many times, very beautiful.
In a rush I became a question
making machine. The typical stuff, when was she born,
the origin of her village, if she knew Pancho Villa,
the revolution, the "cristeros", the first railway,
the traditions. She looked at me like saying poor
man interested only in a few things, the past, history,
in neat, likeable and incredible stuff. She probably
thought poor man. She patiently endured my assault
of questions.
At once she told me: my son (imagine her age if she
said son to me) all this is past, it is gone, it is
memory. Why don*t we rather talk about today, about
the present and what we do today for our future?
Listen to me, she said, it
was already past 6 pm and the cover of darkness was
starting to fall, "listen,
think that today is a unique unrepeatable day, a day
that will never come back. Today never comes back.
Don*t let it pass wanting to know things that have
already left. Sit down, think about it, contemplate
the wonder of this day and how marvelous tomorrow will
be. Think today about who you want to be and if you
really want it, you will achieve it. Today is a new,
different, unique day, take advantage of it. Design
your present life and maybe tomorrow*s life, not the
one that is already gone. Live each moment to the maximum,
enjoy every second and every minute, so that the hours
turn into pleasure by themselves. Life is made by well
lived, well applied, squeezed out minutes".
Think she told me once again
and it was the last thing this old and beautiful
woman said to me, "today never
comes back, live it, live it as if it was your last
day, enjoy it, fill it, do not leave even one small
instant empty".
She opened a small cotton bag she had next to her
hand and took out some small seeds starting to peel
them with her teeth.
I got up and walked slowly
along this cobblestone street that measured only
3 blocks. My pace was so slow that the path seemed
to be many miles long. "Today
is a unique, unrepeatable day, a day that will never
come back". The fairies are loose.
That was all for today, until next
time.
Thank you. Nacho Cadena
Owner of La Petite
France
* From My Balcony
is an independent column of Mr. Ignacio
[Nacho] Cadena, owner of La
Petite France Restaurant
in Puerto Vallarta and source of this information.
To contact Mr. Ignacio Cadena please email
to: lapetitefrance@prodigy.net.mx
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