The Route, the Pencil and the paper

Jacaranda

Fiction

Jacaranda is a subtropical tree native to South America and characteristic for showy and long-lasting violet flowers.

A nice family and a well-paid job achieved through a lifetime of effort. He followed a normal routine with his morning exercise, salads at noon, wednesday dinner with his co-workers and on weekends, football.

Every day on the same trip to work, he enjoyed it. He prefers to listen the sounds of the ride rather than the radio. There were certain things he liked to observe but the truth was that he already knew everything, ten years on the same trip.

He was all right, love was active in his marriage, a good relationship with his children and a stable job.

He started with small symptoms that no one understood. He would go out into the garden and stand for hours in the same position. He started saying that he had begun to value other things in life. The heat of the sun and the wind passing through his fingers made him feel good.

He didn't spend that much time outside before, but lately it was different. Several times they found him standing there in the middle of the garden, with a smile and his fingers ajar, letting the wind pass.

He was not worried but by the wonder of the family he decided to go to see a doctor.  Which said that he was fine but that he should deal with a psychologist those weird thoughts of needing the outside.

One morning when he turned on the bathroom light he found something on his forehead. It wasn't a grain or anything like that, it was the stem of a leaf. He cut it off and put on a band-aid to cover it.

He knew what was happening, he was the only one who understood those changes, his mind did not process them, his mind was changing too.

He decided to continue as usual, hiding new stems that came out of his body, until one morning his right shoe did not enter, his foot was already almost a complete root.

The stems, by cutting them he had been able to hide them from his family but this was too much. The change was happening faster and faster. He didn't know if he would have time or how he would explain this to them.

Before they got up he limped off to the kitchen.  As he could he grabbed a paper and a pencil.  His fingers were hard as branches, he wrote slowly for the last time:

 Family,

 I would love to explain what is happening to me in words but I no longer believe in that way of speaking. I am just going to tell you that I love you very much.

In the silence and the shadow that I am about to give are all the answers.

PS: Remember to shower me.

Dad.

He went to the garden with a shovel and made a well where he put his feet.  He reached out his arms and by the time dawn came and the sun appeared in the sky, he was already a Jacaranda.