Swift as Desire
Page 16
With the passing of the days, my life has started to return to normal. At times, as I go about my daily business, I get the feeling that my father is accompanying me, and that fills me with a sense of peace. Sometimes I can even hear his voice echo clearly in my head. I’m not sure if my belief that my papá is close by comes from my desire to feel good, but whether it’s true or not, I do know that wherever my papá is, he would love to know that I have gone back to taking the astronomy classes I gave up when I got married, that I am learning the Mayan language, and that as soon as Federico’s son, my grandson, has learned to read and write, the first thing I shall teach him is Mayan numerology, so that his heritage is not forgotten.
Last night I had a very revealing dream. My papi and I were riding in his old car, the ’56 Chevy. We were driving to Progreso, on the Yucatán peninsula. The highway was full of butterflies. Some of them struck the windshield. I was driving and suddenly my papi asked me to let him drive. Without waiting for my reply, he reached for the steering wheel. Despite his blindness, I wasn’t afraid to let him drive. My papá laughed happily and I joined in. I felt a little afraid only on the curves, because he didn’t turn the wheel fast enough. On a sharp turn, to my surprise, he kept going straight ahead; but instead of falling into the void, we flew up into the air. We speeded over several provincial cities and in all of them people on the ground waved at us. Many campesinos eagerly waved their sombreros, as if they recognized us. When we reached the ocean, my papi said, “Look, Chipi-chipi,” and he quickly jumped in the water and began paddling around. I was surprised, given his Parkinson’s, that he could move about so easily.
A sound slowly awakened me from this deep dream and brought me back to reality. It was a message being tapped out in Morse code on the wooden head of my bed, which is turned to face north. Curiously, it came today, on the fourteenth of February. In addition to celebrating love and friendship, in Mexico we also use this day to commemorate telegraph operators, although not many people remember that anymore.
Telegraph operators, those people who played such an important role in the history of telecommunication, have now been forgotten. I can understand why no one would want to remember don Pedro, but it makes me sad that few people would take a moment, before they go on-line on their computers, to remember that in its day the telegraph was as important as the Internet is now, and that telegraph operators made an essential contribution to the enjoyment we have of instant communication today. Well, sometimes life seems ungrateful, but it doesn’t really matter. The interesting thing about the communication process is that in one way or another it allows us to express the words that come from within us. Whether they are written, spoken, or sung, they fly through space charged with the echoes of all the other voices that have preceded them. They travel through the air bathed in the saliva from other mouths, humming with the vibrations from other ears, and throbbing with the beat of thousands of hearts. They cling to the very core of our memories and lie there in silence until a new desire reawakens them and recharges them with loving energy. That is one of the qualities of words that moves me most, their capacity for transmitting love. Like water, words are a wonderful conductor of energy. And the most powerful, transforming energy is the energy of love.
All those whose lives my father helped to change would always call him on February fourteenth to honor him. Today, the first ones to call were Jesús and Lupita. They were very saddened by the news of his death, the death of my papá, the telegraph operator, the man who knew how to unite thousands of people, who knew how to express their hopes and desires. And ultimately, that is all that really matters, that we all remember him. He will always endure in our memory, thanks to the transforming power of his words. And by the way, the words in the message that was tapped out on my headboard were:
“Dear Chipi-chipi, death does not exist and life is wonderful. Live it to the fullest! I shall love you always. Your papá.”
FIRST ANCHOR BOOKS EDITION, SEPTEMBER 2002
Copyright © 2001 by Laura Esquivel
Translation copyright © 2001 by Stephen A. Lytle
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by Anchor Books, a
division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally
published in hardcover in the United States by Crown Publishers,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 2001.
Anchor Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to Peer Music for lyrics from “Pobre De Mi”
by Agustin Lara. Copyright © 1941 by Promotora Hispano Americana de Musica,
S.A. Administered by Peer International Corporation. Copyright renewed. International
copyright secured. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Crown edition as follows:
Esquivel, Laura
[Tan veloz como el deseo. English]
Swift as desire / Laura Esquivel.—1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-1-4000-3326-3
I. Title.
PQ 7298.15.S638 T3613 2001
863′.64—dc21 2001028351
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