The jacaranda tree at my house and I share the same age.
In 1987, she was planted in a garden bed in Santa María Morelia,
y a mí me sacaron del vientre de María Emma.
It was August.
Neither of us is native to this land crossed by a chain of volcanic mountains that runs through the country from Michoacán to Veracruz.
She comes from the tropical lands of the Amazon,
humid jungles of tall trees, down in the southern part of the American continent.
I come from the Mezquital Valley,
a plain in the center of the country, populated with mesquite trees, agaves, and prickly pears,
framed in the distance by mountains that look blue.
Both of us put down roots on a hill of quarry stone.
She breaking the ground with her roots,
and I cultivating the promise of a love.
Photography by Ignacio Isaac Soto
Editor, ceramicist, and gardener. I write so as not to complicate myself.