“Oh…”
“What?”
“Oh no, it’s that time… the blooms… oh…”
“What is wrong with you? Why are you crying?”
Both C. and my dog couldn’t understand what was going on. We went out for a walk, crossed the road, and then I stopped in front of a tree and started crying.
“It’s acacia… blooming… so early… it’s time to go… it was… babushka… oh…”
Yes, it’s that time of year. Acacia is blooming. Each year, it catches me by surprise and makes me cry.
I spent all my summer holidays with my grandparents. I was coming in May when the school year finished and leaving before the next one started in September.
The blooming acacia tree was the first thing I saw getting out of the car.
The tree greeted me in all its glory, swaying its branches strewn with clusters of white flowers and filling the air with a dense honey aroma.
I wanted to pick a flower, carefully tear off the petals, find a small drop of syrup, and lick it off.
“I will do it later. I have all the time for it. I have to find my grandparents.”
I always wanted to be the first to greet them, but it wasn’t easy, as they could be anywhere.
