Sacha

When I was six, the world seen from my garden was really, really amazing.

I lived in a small house in the suburb, in a calm place, hidden from the rest of the world. I remember that our house was very simple, like a shoebox, which I could easily reproduce in my drawings. With a little bit of imagination and a large box of colored pencils, I used to change those boring white walls for a much better bright yellow facade and red doors.

My garden was narrow, encircling the whole wall that separated our house from the street. In the spring, we had flowers of different colors and sizes. You could see ferns, azaleas, daisies. My favorite was the azaleas. With small flowers, formed by five petals of pink color, I used to play a silly game with them called daisy game while picking off one petal of a flower, and repeating alone to myself “he loves me ... he loves not”. Smart as I was, I knew that if I started with he loves me, I would always win the game, even knowing nothing about love at that time.

I remember vividly the clear summer days in which I spent hours running in the grass, climbing the starfruit tree in the center of my backyard, jumping the neighbor's wall looking for four-leafed clovers and ladybugs, and riding my red bicycle long distances on imaginary roads built with hose pipes tied together. It was not the pink bike with a basket as I had wanted, but it was mine and I could already ride it without the help of the training wheels.

With pink cheeks stained by the sun, a sweaty hair tied in a ponytail, and legs covered with Hello- Kitty band-aids hiding little scratches, I enjoyed every minute before listening to my mother's horrible call for the dinner.

Sacha, a black German shepherd, was my relentless furry friend. With black and gold hair and the smartest eyes, I’ve ever seen, she was always ready for a new adventure.

We used to play a secret game that belonged only to us. In a shady place, we lay down on the floor made with hexagonal, orange and cold ceramic tiles. We looked at the sky, her body next to mine. I could feel the movements of her chest and the warmth of her breath.  My heart slowed down and sweat was no longer running down my the face.

First, I counted the number of clouds. Then I looked for familiar shapes, trying to put them together. From there came rockets, dinosaurs, flowers, planets, rainbows. An airplane passed over my cloud sculptures, messing things up and we had to start playing again.

Hours passed without my noticing. Two free spirits, without any concern or insecurity.

When the sun was already reaching the horizon combining shades of blue and pink I whispered in Sacha’s ear: “You know, when I become a mother, we won’t have to be apart, and we’ll do a picnic in the yard and we'll change our game and count the stars instead of clouds, what do you think?”  And she always wagged her tail with satisfaction.

Now I'm not afraid of the night. I look up at the starry sky, looking for Sacha among those stars, remembering my joyful childhood. Today I’m a mother, and I teach my 6-year-old litlle girl to count with me clouds and stars and to dream with great and happy days….